


So Flawed And Free

by art_by_daphneblithe, Cristinuke



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Hook, Body Worship, Catharsis, Choking, Come Marking, D/s, Dom!Bucky, Edgeplay, Edging, Emotions, Exhibitionism, Exhibitionism with grey morals, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Fucking, Hand Feeding, M/M, Milking, Multiple Orgasms, Nightmares, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Dynamics, Praise, Praise Kink, Predicament Bondage, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Regaining Autonomy, Rope Bondage, Safeword discussion, Safewords, Shibari, Strappado, Subspace, Surprisingly Good Communication, Topspace, not compliant with anything after CA:TWS, on their own terms, sub!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 10:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19332340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art_by_daphneblithe/pseuds/art_by_daphneblithe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cristinuke/pseuds/Cristinuke
Summary: The road to regaining autonomy is long and hard, and when Steve suggests a coping mechanism, Bucky is both unsure and excited to try.





	So Flawed And Free

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I want to thank Daphne for creating such beautiful art- I could look at it for days! Her cheerleading has been so helpful and I hope this fic does the art proud :D
> 
> Secondly, I am forever grateful for [Kuja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuja/profile) and the amazing editing skills I could not have done without! Seriously saved a life there...
> 
> This work is part of the Cap RBB 2019 challenge, and I'm so excited for everyone to read it!

He couldn’t move.

They liked to play these games sometimes, make him stay still. He could do it without a doubt, and he _would_ do it. He had to, because the alternative was…

The alternative was…

There was no alternative.

He always had to obey.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t what he wanted— what he wanted _never_ mattered. What mattered were his orders. He always had orders, and he always followed those orders.

There was never a choice.

If it were a choice he’d never have let them touch him like this. Their callous fingers scraping along his skin, making him want to recoil, but unable to even flinch. They brought different tools to use on him. Some were sharp and left stinging cuts. Others were dull and thick and were inserted in places they shouldn’t go. Others left abrasions that burned and howled against a light breeze.

All of them were cold, though. That was one thing he could count on. The cold never left him.

Its fingers wrapped around him, holding tightly— smothering him— and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _move_ , and fuck. If only he could get away, if he could just fucking _move_ , he’d run and run and run.

But they told him not to move, and he was helpless.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t—

Bucky woke quickly and violently, brain already accelerated into _fight_ , and it wasn’t until he rounded on the first person he saw, pinning them to the floor and bearing his entire weight down on them that he realized he could _move_.

He could hear the faint _whirring_ his metal arm made as it adjusted and recalibrated to keep a steady hold on the neck of—

His forearm was locked across the throat of—

“Fuck.” Bucky gritted out, frozen.

He had Steve pinned down securely, his other hand gripping both of Steve’s wrists above his head. Steve wasn’t moving a muscle— to attack or to defend— and _fuck_ , why wasn’t he _defending himself?_

Forcing himself to take a breath to try to slow his racing heart, Bucky started to note all the details that had escaped him.

Bucky was awake. He had been dreaming. He had Steve— _Steve!_ — in a hold that was slowly choking him. It wasn’t HYDRA.

Steve wasn’t HYDRA.

He was awake and far from their reach.

Though, was he really?

But— _stop it._

_Focus._

It took him another endless moment to figure out how to lift himself off of Steve, ignoring the way his hands shook, even the metal one.

“You shouldn’t hog all of the blankets.” Bucky tried to be snarky, but he could hear how flat and forced it felt. He straightened up, realizing he was straddling Steve too, dropping his whole weight on him to keep him down.

Keep Steve still.

_Don’t let him move_.

Bucky raised himself slightly onto his knees to relieve some of the weight, but he couldn’t really bring himself to move more than that.

Not even when Steve started trying fruitlessly to hide his coughing. Steve could take a lot, but even he had to take a breather after getting choked by a metal arm.

Bucky stared at him the whole time, mind stuttered to a blank stop.

He knew he had to move.

Knew he had to say he was sorry.

Knew he had to help _somehow_.

Instead, he simply watched until Steve cleared his throat and croaked out, “You shouldn’t hog the whole bed then. Retaliation is always inevitable.”

It was stupid banter, and it definitely could have been read as something deeper, but Bucky saw it for what it really was.

Steve was telling him he understood, and forgave him.

Whether or not he deserved it Bucky really didn’t want to go into at the moment, so he raised an eyebrow at Steve, and let himself crack a grin at the dumb comment.

Steve smiled back, clearly happy Bucky was allowing this band-aid on the bleeding wound between them.

Finally, Bucky forced himself to move, though only enough to flop back onto the bed. He remembered falling asleep in Steve’s room the night before; he’d been feeling more and more comfortable and confident at sleeping in places other than his room lately. This wasn’t quite the reward he wanted, though.

He scrubbed his face with his flesh hand, asking, “What time is it, anyway?”

He felt Steve roll over— the blankets pulling for a moment— before he answered, “Go back to sleep. It’s only 3am.”

Bucky snorted humorlessly, knowing sleeping was pointless now.

Steve rolled back and poked him in the side. “You have therapy in the morning.” he pointed out.

Groaning, Bucky rolled away from Steve and covered his head with a pillow as he whined, “I’d rather stay home sleeping in that case.”

Even muffled, he heard Steve chuckle, a raspy effort that Bucky felt a pang of guilt for. “C’mon. You know you only have to do it for a few more months. Your next psych evaluation is going to come up sooner than you think.”  He paused, and then added, “You’ve been making progress quickly, Buck.”

Bucky snorted, turning back to face Steve dead in the eye and scowl at the irony in his sentence.

Steve chose to not rise to Bucky’s bait, his face remaining impassive.

 “Sure,” Bucky begins, mocking Steve’s ever-present optimism, “now I can crack a joke and choose what I want to eat. But god-forbid someone gives me an order after a few choice words. I don’t think a judge is going to grant me leniency again if I go on another murder spree.”

Steve finally turned on a light and propped himself up so he could look at Bucky seriously. Bucky, for his part, refused to move from the comfort of his position.

“Buck,” Steve began calmly. He was always calm these days. “You know that’s not going to happen again. We erased any evidence of the trigger words, and you’ve been working on it anyway. Your impulse control is a lot better after you’ve been triggered.”

Bucky snorts again, muttering, “Yeah, it took me three seconds to do it, rather than immediately. Big-fucking-whoop, Steve.”

“The _point_ ,” Steve stressed, ignoring Bucky, “Is that you’re _working on it_.”

Finally, Bucky got annoyed enough to sit up, kicking the sheets down aggressively. “It hardly fucking matters if HYDRA ever finds me again, Steve. Someone, somewhere, is going to know the goddamned words and I’m not going to be able to do anything about it. Maybe delay the order a whole _three fucking seconds._ ” Bucky curled his knees up to his chest, despite knowing how defensive it made him look.

Steve let him have his retort, quieting down to listen. It was something new he’d started doing ever since Bucky’d come back— probably something his therapist had suggested— and Bucky hated how effective it was, because he kept talking.

“I know you want to tell me that I’m safe, and that HYDRA won’t find us here, but…” Bucky took a breath and looked down at his knees. “I also know you can’t make that promise.”

They were both quiet for a moment after that. Bucky almost wanted to laugh because he knew they were both thinking about what they’ve talked about in their respective therapies; how to _listen_ and _validate_ their feelings. Even going was a huge hurdle to jump over in the first place. The future really was astonishing, if only for the fact that he and Steve had had to learn how to talk to each other— _really_ talk.

Bucky got pulled from his thoughts when Steve broke the silence, evidently sticking to his original point. “You’ve been making progress, though. Small as it may seem—” Here, Bucky could _hear_ the therapist’s voice—, “and that’s what matters.”

Bucky dropped his head onto his knees but turned to look at Steve. “Sure, and one day I might not be a liability. Until then, I’m just going to have to settle with various _psychologists_ and _doctors_ digging around in my mind to undo seventy years’ worth of brainwashing— per court order, may I add— and, _oh yeah_. There’s always the possibility that I might still murder you in your sleep.” Bucky gestured to Steve’s throat at the last point, where in the light he could see the fading red marks his grip had left. It would be gone in a few more minutes, Bucky knew, but it still happened. “Am I missing anything?”

Steve, the fucker, simply shrugged.

“It’s still progress.” He said it as a matter-of-fact, and Bucky wanted to lose himself in that incredible conviction that only Steve could pull off.

Instead, he rolled his eyes and sighed, stretching back out on the bed and gesturing towards the light before turning his back on Steve.

Steve scoffed good-naturedly but did as Bucky asked, and turned off the lights. When he scooted down the bed to get comfortable though, Bucky wordlessly reached back and grabbed Steve’s arm, pulling it around him.

“Okay,” Steve murmured as he settled up against Bucky’s back. “Okay.”

*

The next time he had a nightmare, Bucky was dreaming about having been ordered to wait for a target.

It was an odd mission, because he was lying in a bed instead of a sniper’s nest. More than that, he didn’t have his rifle, and even though it didn’t make sense in the dream, it still felt like he was following the parameters of the order.

But even in the dream, he knew he didn’t like the fact that he was naked. Nothing good ever came from that set of circumstances.

He was following orders, though, and waiting.

Abruptly, he remembered that his handlers sometimes liked to fuck him after missions. Even though this was currently the mission.

It made sense, somehow. Or rather, he wasn’t supposed to try to make sense of it. His handlers did that for him.

This handler was probably in the shower, or grabbing dinner. He knew that some of them liked to make him wait until they were ready.

He always waited perfectly.

He was a good soldier.

His orders were to not move a _fucking inch, you bitch—_

—and he was good at following orders.

So fucking good.

He was so good he literally could not move at all.

Even his breathing was carefully measured. Like even that was stretching his orders a little too much.

And it hurt— of course it hurt, it _always_ hurt— holding himself so still, so quiet, so frozen. But he knew that they’d be beyond pissed if he even thought about disobeying. Their wrath was always so much worse than anything he could think to do to himself.

He simply wasn’t creative enough to hurt the way they could make him hurt.

And fuck, he really needed to pee, but his orders still held firm. He hadn’t gotten any new ones, so he still didn’t move. He hoped his handler would come back soon though. Hoped the mission  might change before…

He never should hold on to any kind of hope. He didn’t know why he bothered, when he was only let down time and time again.

Especially since he had learned that while they generally hated it when he pissed himself, they were still happy about the fact that he followed orders so well.

They laughed and laughed and laughed, and that must mean he’d pleased them.

He always tried to please.

But just like back then, he knew he couldn’t relieve himself properly until he was released from his orders. He hoped— _again_ , and futilely— that they would come back sooner rather than later. He had hated having to clean up his own mess that could have simply been avoided had the handlers returned sooner. He hated having to lie in it for hours, the cool liquid soaking into everything and making him want to shiver. But shivering meant moving, and he couldn’t move. He could never move, he was ordered to not move, he couldn’t—

“ _Bucky_!”

Steve’s voice was full of concern, and even through waking, Bucky could immediately tell that Steve had been trying to wake him up for a while now.

Bucky was forever grateful for the lifeline of his voice, and still felt vaguely guilty about how they had more or less landed on not touching Bucky to wake him if he was having a nightmare, ever since he’d broken Steve’s collarbone one time early on. Even then, Steve still insisted it was fine for Bucky to sleep in his bed.

Now Bucky just blinked slowly up at Steve, whose face was pinched in worry.

Bucky felt the urge to tell him, _again,_ that his face was going to get stuck like that, but instead he resigned to exasperation and tried to sigh in annoyance. His thoughts about being annoyed at Steve vanished the moment his chest hurt a little bit, and he was only able to catch a shallow breath.

“Hey, there you are. You okay?” Steve asked once he saw Bucky was awake and not coming up swinging.

Bucky started to answer, but suddenly found that his mouth refused to open. He was frozen.

Perceiving it as hesitance or avoidance, Steve looked him over with a worried frown. “I’m sorry, I knew you were having a nightmare. You were pretty still and crying, so I had to do something.”

Now that Steve had mentioned it, Bucky could feel the dry tracks at his temples. The sudden awareness of it made him want to scrub at his face to get rid of the gritty feeling, but again, he still couldn’t move.

Frustration overtook him when he realized the problem.

He hadn’t been given any other orders.

His fucking _dream orders_ were still in effect— he just wanted to scream, wanted to cry more because it wasn’t fucking _fair_ that something as ridiculous as a _dream_ could keep him prisoner.

He couldn’t even ask Steve to contradict the order, because of course he couldn’t.

Bucky could feel his heart threatening to break through his chest as his panic rose, and he didn’t want to find out how it would feel to have a panic attack while staying still, but it looked like it  was going to be something in his immediate future.

Luckily, Steve was quick, and Bucky wanted to bless him all over when he saw the moment Steve caught on to the silent dilemma and straightened up.

Dropping his voice into a commanding tone, he ordered, “Bucky, at ease. Breathe and relax.”

All at once, Bucky felt like a deflated balloon, curling over onto his side to shake and pant harshly. All of that pent up energy was finally finding its way out of his body, making his breaths come out closer to sobs.

Bucky fisted his hands, ignoring the whir of the metal one, and couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about ripping the sheets that got caught in his grip. He’d buy Steve more.

He could feel Steve’s hands on his shoulder and head, petting him gently and murmuring quiet encouragements that washed over Bucky without any meaning. Bucky knew it didn’t matter that he couldn’t pay attention; Steve was simply letting him have his fit, and watching over him.

After all, Steve knew full well how weak Bucky was, right? How broken and useless he was.

How some days he was a better machine than a human.

And even then, Steve was still here.

And Bucky was pathetically grateful.

And then _angry._

Because he had to be grateful in the first place.

Bucky cycled through all of the emotions tirelessly, almost watching from outside himself but never quite detaching completely— so he was forced to feel everything. He jumped from thought to thought, emotion to emotion, never-ending as he kept analyzing himself— his situation, his past, his future, until finally…

Finally his mind started to settle a little bit.

Each analysis coming up blank.

And blank.

And blank.

An error.

A blank.

The wheel turning less and less.

Until he was emptied out.

A shell, again.

Blank.

Ready to be directed towards a target.

Blank.

_Ready to comply._

The air conditioning kicked on, and Bucky snorted bitterly at himself, breaking through the blankness like ice.

Fuck.

He wasn’t going to fall back into old habits. Not again. He was going to work to pull himself back this time. And next time. And the time after that.

Steve was right. They had come so far along already in this stupid recovery.

It had been only, what, a couple of years? Two years since Steve had found him again, finally willing to be brought home.

It was only a little over a year since he’d been finally released into Steve’s custody (on pending requirements by the state, of course. Could never forget that).

It was only months since he’d been himself enough to not only want Steve again, but for Steve to be okay with letting himself be wanted and wanting him back in return.

God, that had been a fit of starts and stops for so long— with both of them simultaneously trying not to rush into things and tripping over boundaries and limits they’d been forced to learn along the way.

General deprogramming had not been fun— not that his weekly meetings with his therapists to deprogram the rest was by any measure of the word ‘fun’— but at least they’d gotten over the worst parts.

The worst was the off switch they had accidentally found. They made sure to figure that one out fast.

Bucky didn’t cower anymore when Steve stood up too fast. Fear had evolved over time into better emotions.

He’d also finally stopped equipping Steve with a weapon whenever he entered a room. Even if Steve had been horrified the day he realized why Bucky did that. Now, Bucky kept at least three knives on his person at all times, not including a myriad of other tools and weapons that changed depending on his mood.

Plus, Bucky hadn’t disassociated in at least four months, which was definitely a record he wanted to keep, if only to keep the fear out of Steve’s eyes when he finally resurfaced. It would always take a few days to get back to normal, with both of them walking around on eggshells— Steve because he didn’t want to trigger Bucky again, and Bucky because he didn’t want to be triggered for Steve’s sake.

And Bucky slept in Steve’s bed more nights than not, despite the nightmares and insomnia and other myriad of issues that cropped up during the night.

But this. Fucking _this._

The doctors had not been surprised that this was one of the last few remnants of his brainwashing. After all, it had been the one thing that had been drilled into him for longer than the doctors had been alive, so they were okay to cut him a break and start his transition back into society.

Bucky was the one that didn’t want to give himself a break.

Dragging himself from his thoughts, Bucky breathed out again, ignoring the harsh feeling in his chest. Slowly, he forced himself to uncurl, relishing in the fact that he could, and that he was the one directing himself. He was in control of his movements this time.

He _was_.

He turned so that he could see Steve, who had been lying quietly next to him, giving him time to pull himself together. In response to Bucky’s shifting, Steve started to remove his arm, more than willing to give Bucky the space he might need or want.

Bucky hummed, sounding whiny as he mumbled, “I like having your hands in my hair.”

With a quiet laughter that Bucky felt more than heard, Steve reached out to stroke him again. Within seconds, Bucky felt the goosebumps on his arms and he moaned out his appreciation. He was able to relax finally, settling into himself as his mind finally stopped running through everything all at once. Steve’s motions were repetitive and easy, and did more than wonders to ground Bucky in the here and now.

And if Bucky allowed himself to fidget and twitch every now and then to solidify the truth that he could move, well, Steve didn’t call him out on it, and Bucky was fine with this coping strategy for now.

His breathing was finally under control again, and his heart wasn’t pounding uncomfortably in his chest anymore. He knew he owed Steve an explanation, no matter how many times Steve has told him he doesn’t owe him anything.

It was a matter of principle to Bucky.

Without opening his eyes, Bucky opened his mouth to speak.

“I couldn’t move.” He started with the obvious, and he was grateful that Steve’s only reaction was the twitch of his hand on a pass before continuing his steady rhythm of petting Bucky. “I had my orders, and I couldn’t… I _can’t_ disobey, Steve. You know that, when I’m…with the _fucking…_ the words. Even though no one had said them, I still…” He knew he was rambling and not making complete sense, but he also knew that Steve would read between the lines.

“I’m just… I’m just so tired of following orders. Even if they’re not real.” Bucky snorted, “Especially if they’re not real.” Steve hummed in polite agreement, not betraying any emotion, and kept stroking him. As he did, Bucky took the opportunity to cuddle closer, burrowing into Steve’s chest until Steve simply wrapped his arms around him and turned so that he could pull Bucky on top of his torso. Bucky couldn’t help but smile and let himself go limp; he remembered enough to know they had never really done this before, what with Bucky always being bigger than Steve, and Steve usually hanging out at death’s door growing up. But he wasn’t actually crushing Steve now, and it made it so much easier for him to rest his head underneath Steve’s chin.

Steve kept his hold on Bucky, arms secure around him even though Bucky was perfectly balanced. “That sucks.” Steve finally said, matter of fact, and the bluntness unraveled the last knot of tension in Bucky’s chest as he burst out laughing.

“Understatement of the year.” Bucky muttered, smiling against Steve’s chest.

“Maybe you should be the one to give the orders.” Steve mentioned offhandedly, and Bucky went still. He then turned his face and lifted himself up enough to look down at Steve. Steve looked completely unbothered by his previous statement, and was even raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

“Steve,” Bucky began slowly, searching Steve’s eyes, “I can’t contradict the orders I hear. It doesn’t work like that. You know that.”

Meeting Bucky’s gaze steadily, Steve huffed a wry laugh. “I know. I’m just thinking… maybe you can balance it out, y’know?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “And how do you propose I do that?” He folded his arms atop Steve’s chest and the rested his chin on his crossed hands so he could still watch Steve easily.

“Hmm,” Steve drew out his answer, and Bucky kicked him lightly, making him grin, caught out. “You could give an order for every order you’ve had to follow,” Steve offered, and Bucky couldn’t help the derisive snort that burst out of him.

“That’s funny. That’s a good one, Steve.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Okay,” Bucky began, asking rhetorically, “and who the fuck would I give orders to?” Bucky wiggled his fingers in emphasis, “I’m not exactly a sergeant anymore, and I seriously doubt I’d even be allowed to reenlist. I mean, I literally have a court case pending right now, and the military isn’t going to only look at the pros of my skills while conveniently ignoring the pretty big and glaring cons. It’s all detailed in a very explicit medical file and court paperwork, Steve. You should read it sometime.” The last part was dripping with sarcasm.

“I don’t mean in the army.”

The statement made Bucky still again and stare at him.

“Steve…”

“You could order me around.”

Both of them seemed to hold their breath in the wake of that sentence. When Bucky opened his mouth to argue, Steve stopped him, talking over him, “It would be mutual anyway.”

That took Bucky aback.

He stopped to breathe for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I was just thinking. It could help you out, you know. To give orders to someone and actually have those orders followed.”

Bucky couldn’t help rolling his eyes at that, barely wrapping his head around the idea. Steve simply continued, ignoring Bucky and telling him seriously, “And, I wouldn’t mind taking orders from you Buck.”

At this, Bucky actually cracked up, rolling off of Steve to dramatically put a hand on his chest as he laughed. Steve turned on his side, propping himself up on an arm to look indignantly at Bucky who just laughed even harder.

“You have—,” Bucky tried to get out in between giggles, “you have _never_ listened to a goddamned word anyone says— let alone me, so why _the fuck_ would you start now?”

“Hey, I followed orders in the army—” he couldn’t even finish that attempt at arguing before Bucky was glaring at him, calling him out.

Steve capitulated, rolling his eyes, “I followed the right orders.” Bucky snorted again, getting the last of his giggles out and propping himself up to face Steve.

“But also…” Steve continued seriously, “I wouldn’t mind taking a break now and again. I could use a change of pace sometimes.” Steve looked down, and Bucky could see a dull flush grow on his face. Bucky wanted to ask, find out more about what Steve meant, but Steve kept talking. “Really, Bucky, knowing that this might help you, that’s good— and right. Therefore, any order you give me would also be right. I’d follow wherever you lead.”

Bucky ignored the tight feeling that the declaration made in his chest. It was a combination of hope and fear, and Bucky ruthlessly pushed it down. Uncomfortable, Bucky pushed himself up to sit cross-legged, feeling too vulnerable lying down. “That’s fucking stupid. I’d fuck you up like that, if you followed every order. God, just look at me. Don’t be an idiot.”

Steve stayed where he was, decidedly lower than Bucky, and Bucky hated himself for clocking that move, and figuring Steve was purposefully making himself look unarmed and easy.

“I doubt that’s true.” Steve spoke softly, continuing even over Bucky’s head shaking, “I trust you.”

Flashes of his nightmare crossed Bucky’s mind, hearing ghosts say words that made him helpless to ignore. “I shouldn’t be trusted, Steve. The government knows I can’t be trusted. Hell, even my therapist knows I shouldn’t be trusted!” Bucky’s metal arm recalibrated as his emotions flared up despite himself. “This could easily go wrong, and you know it.”

Steve watched him calmly, waiting him out patiently. When Bucky finally took a moment to breathe out harshly— still not facing what the turmoil really was inside— Steve spoke again.

“I trust you,” he reiterated. “And fuck everyone else.”

Bucky quieted down, watching Steve. He could see the determined look on his face, and he knew full well that Steve believed in what he was saying, what he was proposing. As stupid as it was.

Bucky almost wanted to laugh again when he realized that Steve wanted him to be the one giving orders and being in charge, but at the moment, he couldn’t deny Steve anything.

Honestly, he never could.

He finally let himself feel the emotions building up, unable to keep pretending he wasn’t feeling excited at the prospect of finally being on the other side of an order. But he also felt pure, undiluted terror at what that actually meant.

Breathing out hard, he told Steve, “We’re going to have to talk more about this.” Steve’s face lit up like the goddamned sun, but Bucky continued, “We’re going to figure out rules and boundaries, because I refuse to fuck this up from the get-go. I’m not walking into this blindly like when I first started living here.”

“Of course,” Steve breathed out, pushing off of his arm to sit up and get close to Bucky. He reached out and took Bucky’s hands, gripping them hard in his. “We’ll figure this out.”

Steve’s surety always made everything seem so easy, despite whatever logic tried to dictate.

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hands back and knew that one way or another, they were in this together.

*

Bucky made Steve ignore the… _topic_ …for the rest of that day. He wanted to think things over, so they had gone about the rest of their day as usual.

But time was always cruel when you wanted more of it, and soon it was morning again. He couldn’t run from it anymore.

So when Bucky walked out into the kitchen at eight in the morning and saw Steve making breakfast, he declared, “Let’s talk.”

Steve looked up from the pan of eggs he was making and nodded curtly. He knew Bucky well enough to keep cooking, knowing Bucky would tell him to stop if he needed him to.

Bucky grabbed a stool from the island and dragged it next to the stove so he could hand Steve ingredients. Settling in, he began, “There’s logistics, and rules and boundaries that we need. And I have no idea what they are, so we need to figure it out together.”

Steve nodded, agreeing.

“I think the first rule should be that this can’t affect our relationship. If this doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, and we leave it alone.”

Steve lowered the temperature as he broke up the cooking eggs. “Okay.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, expecting more kickback, but Steve seemed weirdly sincere. “Really? That’s it? Just ‘okay’?”

Steve looked over at him. “Bucky, this is supposed to help you. If it doesn’t, we stop. It’s just like any other thing we’ve tried, like medication or doctors.”

Bucky blinked. He hadn’t thought of it that way. It made perfect sense, but honestly, it had freaked him out a little bit, so he hadn’t really been thinking too clearly. “Right. Okay then. Next, this can’t affect your work.”

Steve looked up at that, a little surprised. “How would it…?” Steve began, and then cut himself off, eyebrows pulled together.

“I don’t really know, but the Avengers need you too much to let this become a liability. If it even _can_ be a liability, I’m not sure. But Captain America needs to be able to do his job.”

Steve looked back at the eggs and moved them around. They were nearly cooked. “I’ll agree for now.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, but Steve waved him off, “I’ll agree but I can’t promise I’ll be Captain America forever, Buck. You know that. But we can definitely talk about it if it ever becomes a thing we need to worry about.”

Bucky pursed his lips, not liking the idea, but knowing it was a good enough compromise for the moment.

“Then in line with that, this needs to be only an at-home thing, at least for now.” He added when he saw Steve open his mouth to argue. Steve grabbed a plate and scraped the eggs onto it, clearly debating in his head before putting the pan down and saying, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Bucky wasn’t really sure why Steve wouldn’t readily agree to that, because he really couldn’t picture them doing anything weird outside their home in the first place. But he let it go.

Steve poured more olive oil on the pan, grabbing a packet of bacon and opening it.

“Now, about what we’ll actually do, we need to talk about what our options are—”

“No.” Steve interrupted.

Bucky stared. “No? What do you mean, _no?_ ”

Steve pulled out the bacon and started lying the strips in the pan, each piece sizzling against the heat. “I mean, _no_. I don’t need to negotiate anything about we’ll do together. You never got options or choices, so neither will I.”

Bucky was speechless, absolutely horrified.

Flashes of a wide array of possibilities start running through his mind, of everything that had been done to him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Steve. What, you’d be fine with me ordering you to shove a baton up your ass? Choke on dick until you throw up all over yourself? Make you—”

“Stop.” Steve put down the bacon and turned to Bucky. “Do you _want_ to do those things to me?”

That made Bucky balk.

“Of course not!” He exclaimed, offended, “How could you even think that? I just need you to understand that things always go sideways, and you can’t just give me carte blanche to everything like that.”

Steve nodded, but it felt more like he was humoring Bucky. “I get it, but why would I fear something that you wouldn’t want to do in the first place? Would anything that you _actually_ want to do even potentially lead to those things?”

Bucky stared, caught out. Steve turned back to the pan, finishing putting the bacon in and turning on the heat again. Finally, Bucky admitted, “No.”

He saw Steve smile, and it made him smile a little bit too, realizing he may have been blowing this out of proportion a little bit. He didn’t feel too bad though, because he felt like this was a lot of responsibility in the first place. There was nothing wrong with covering his bases.

“But I am curious,” Steve started, catching Bucky’s attention with a wave of the spatula, “have you thought about anything of what you _would_ want to do to me?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to blush, because the answer was yes. He had spent quite a lot of the previous night imagining some scenarios of what he could do to Steve, and had to rub a couple out in the middle of the night in his bathroom, far enough away so that Steve wouldn’t hear.

Bucky couldn’t even admit to it because Steve hummed a note, figuring him out. “I think I know the answer to that then. Case closed.” He flipped the bacon. “Bucky, I’m down for whatever you can throw at me, because I know that you wouldn’t give me anything that I can’t handle.”

Steve scooped a piece of bacon out of the pan and presented it to Bucky. He grabbed it with his metal hand, knowing it didn’t matter how hot it was, and let it cool for a moment before taking a bite.

As he chewed, he took the time to think. He couldn’t really argue with what Steve had said, but he still felt a little uneasy about how open-ended this was turning out to be.

Steve caught on to Bucky’s hesitance and offered, “How about this; we can have a safeword, and either of us can use it, to immediately let the other know they want to stop for whatever reason.”

Bucky swallowed and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Steve waved the spatula around the air, “I can do research, you know.”

“What kind of research could you have possibly looked into that has to do with following orders?” Bucky asked, surprised.

Steve started adding bacon to the egg plate. “The internet has a surprising amount of information on the subject. You’re more than welcome to look at any of the links I clicked on. Here, put those in, please.” He handed Bucky a bag of sliced bread and gestured towards the toaster behind him.

Bucky took the bread, saying, “I’ll pass for now.” He was definitely curious, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to see how far down that particular rabbit hole went.

Steve, damn him, knew full well Bucky’s hesitance and let him off the hook. “Just relax, Buck. Take the day to think about what you really want— and if you’re up for it, maybe we can try something tonight after dinner. It’s up to you.”

Everything always sounded better when Steve tried to be convincing. And honestly? Bucky was feeling strangely okay with that.

“Maybe I’ll look at a link or two,” he agreed, already starting to think.

*

His burgeoning excitement from the morning didn’t last as long as he thought it would, and instead Bucky spent the rest of the day getting more and more wound up.

Concentration was a far off fantasy because he kept thinking about what he wanted, but then his mind would drift off and he’d end up with thoughts he didn’t want to have. Namely, he’d end up imagining himself giving orders that he himself had been given during his life, which usually killed whatever sparks of interest he had built up.

Steve had been right, because just the thought of making him do any of the things Bucky had done made Bucky nauseous. He didn’t want any of that to touch him again, let alone _Steve._

Despite failing just a bit in trying to come up with what he wanted for that night, Bucky did feel some semblance of satisfaction in working out what he _didn’t_ want, and he figured that was just as good.

He knew he didn’t want to humiliate Steve, or put him in impossible no-win situations. Those were always the most frustrating to Bucky.

He _definitely_ didn’t want to punish Steve. After all the violence he’d been subjected to— honestly, either of them— he didn’t want to create another space for pain to live with them. They deserved better.

Which lead Bucky to finally figuring out what he wanted; he just wanted to know if he was still capable of gentleness and love.

Of course, ever since he’d come back and restarted his relationship with Steve, he’d known moments that were full of both. But they had been on equal standing, and Bucky had had to work to remind himself that this was possible.

Now he would have to work even harder to be more than violence and more than pain, because he was being given a gift that he wanted to deserve, but was still unsure of. He _wanted_ to deserve it, and prove to not only Steve, but to himself, that he could still rise above what they had tried to make him into, and that their hold on him was gone.

He knew it was a stretch, but he was willing to work towards that goal, no matter what.

He did end up looking at a couple of links that he had picked out from Steve’s internet history, and that had been an own ordeal in itself, trying to sift through everything to find the more innocent-sounding titles. He actively avoided the obvious porn sites, not needing any extra fuel at the moment. There were educational pages, but even then, those were also mainly about sex.

Bucky knew full well that orders could very easily lead to sex— consensual, sexual encounters—  and while he recoiled from the thought of making Steve do sexual things, he was also curious about it, fantasizing simple things that Steve could do. However, it was those thoughts that freaked Bucky out even more. He was really getting ahead of himself and he needed to stop before it got too much. He wasn’t even sure if he could _do_ this in the first place.

It was better to have realistic goals in mind.

The only problem was that by the time they ordered out, Bucky still had no idea what he actually wanted to do in terms of a scene of sorts. They were mostly silent for dinner, with Bucky barely eating his food because he was so twisted up inside.

Steve didn’t call him out on it either for once, and Bucky almost snapped at him to demand _why not?_ All they’d done was ask each other to pass a container or the salt, and then let the silence drag the air down.

Idly he wondered if it was because Steve was nervous too, but he ate like usual and didn’t seem particularly tense.

However, Steve obviously knew how tense Bucky was, to the point that Steve wordlessly cleaned up, gathering up all the empty containers, and Bucky’s mostly-full plate. He took everything to the kitchen to start putting things away.

Even then, Bucky still couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. He didn’t have the words to express how he was feeling, because he didn’t actually know _what_ he was feeling.

Was he scared?

Excited?

Curious?

Relieved?

_All of the above?_

It wasn’t until Steve sat back down at the table and folded his hands in front of him, that Bucky finally looked up.

“Are you ready?” Steve asked, no judgment in his voice. He was absolutely willing to give Bucky an out if he wanted it.

It was that tone of voice that finally let Bucky release the hold on his breath. Steve would always let Bucky retreat from anything he felt uncomfortable with, and he was pretty sure Steve would stop him if he needed to.

Mostly sure.

“Do you have a safeword?” Bucky forced out, needing to know, but also stalling.

Steve considered him for a moment and then said, “Glacier.”

“Glacier.” Bucky repeated. He nodded, understanding how that was a good word to stop something like this, for both of them. “Got it.”

He really hoped he didn’t fuck up bad enough to have to use it. Or, just as likely, Steve didn’t try to tough it out like a dumbass. It could easily be a combination of the two, to be honest.

Steve patiently waited him out, sitting perfectly still at the table across from Bucky.

It was that patience that finally got Bucky changing gears, stammering out an order, “Stay quiet, and go kneel in front of the couch.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, surprised and a little impressed, and silently got up to do as he was told.

Bucky couldn’t help the flinch at the movement, surprised that Steve was following through. A part of him was happy that he made him leave, even if he could only procrastinate for a few more moments.

No. He wasn’t procrastinating. He had given an order, and Steve was following.

That _meant something._

“G-good job.” He gets out, barely a whisper. He then wanted to smack himself when he realized he wasn’t even turned towards Steve. He figured it didn’t matter much though, because Steve definitely heard it.

Taking a last fortifying breath, Bucky got up to go to him.

Steve was already kneeling, his hands behind his back in a loose parade’s rest, head tilted down. There was a soft smile almost hidden under that bowed head.

It seemed ridiculous to see Steve pretending to be so submissive and pliant, but it also settled something inside of Bucky. Some of his anxiety and apprehension dissipated, and he walked over to stand in front of Steve. Steve kept his head bowed, but every line in his body was acutely tuned to whatever Bucky had to say next.

“Don’t move.” Bucky told him, quietly. Slowly, he walked around Steve, watching as he held himself still. Even when Bucky took a seat behind him on the couch, Steve still didn’t move.

Steve couldn’t see Bucky, but Bucky could see all of Steve; his body was straight, but loose, ready.

Ready to be commanded.

Bucky’s vision doubled for a moment— almost seeing himself through a previous handler’s eyes— but he quickly banished away the memories and thoughts. They had no space here. He didn’t want to think about what had been done to him before

He wanted to do this with Steve, and _only_ with Steve.

No one else was invited.

He told Steve, “Turn around.”

Bucky’s heart did a funny flip at how quick Steve was to obey, somehow making the move look graceful and purposeful. It was almost a surprise, because he wouldn’t have usually considered Steve to be graceful, and yet here he was.

Bucky’s heart was beating fast, but strangely enough, every moment that passed just made him feel calmer. It felt like such a juxtaposition from when he’d been reeling with emotions just a few minutes ago.

“Get closer.” He gestured towards the space between his legs, and watched as Steve scooted up right into his space, eyes focused on Bucky. His face was impassive, simply watching and waiting for whatever Bucky had to say next.

It was a very enticing view, for sure, but Bucky knew what he wanted now.

“Can you put your head down?” Bucky asked, patting a thigh. Immediately, he realized he asked instead of giving an order, so he followed it up with, “And close your eyes. Hands down too.”

Steve obeyed eagerly, immediately letting his head rest against Bucky’s right thigh. He turned slightly so that he was facing inwards, and let out a breath. His hands dropped down to lightly press against the floor— not quite holding his weight so much as just proving that he was following his orders. Bucky couldn’t help but run his flesh hand through Steve’s hair, murmuring, “That’s it.”

Steve shuddered ever so slightly, his body relaxing a little as he leaned more against Bucky’s leg. Bucky took his time, combing Steve’s hair back with his fingers. He noted that Steve was probably going to need a haircut soon, with how long it was starting to grow out.

“You’re doing such a good job, doing what you’re told.” Bucky froze for half a second, realizing what he just said, but then he forced himself to breathe out again. He didn’t actually _regret_ saying it.

No one had ever thanked Bucky for his obedience, so he was going to make damn sure that Steve knew how grateful Bucky was to him.

Steve remained silent, still following Bucky’s earlier order, and Bucky needed to tell him, “I’m so fucking proud of you. Thank you.”

They stayed like that for a while, with Bucky relaxing more and more as he got lost in touching Steve. He alternated between running his fingers through Steve’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, and massaging into his neck and shoulders. Between all the touches, Steve also relaxed along with Bucky, letting his weight lean heavier and heavier against him.

Bucky wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but once his leg started to prickle slightly, he figured Steve might need to move soon as well.

“Come up here, please.” Bucky’s voice was a little scratchy, but Steve heard him loud and clear. He began to get off his knees to join Bucky, but faltered with the first step. Bucky caught him, easing him up as Steve quickly recovered and crawled onto the couch at his side.

The second he was up, Bucky pulled him tightly into a hug, still feeling that easy, relaxed sensation, and wanting to soak in Steve’s embrace. He felt a shift in energy, and knew that Steve could sense that they were done for now, his arms coming up to hold him back, almost burrowing against Bucky’s chest. It should have felt silly or weird, having Steve’s huge body tucked against him, but it felt right. He was still quiet, and Bucky just wanted to revel in it.

Their breathing ended up synching, and Bucky felt absolutely calm— something unfamiliar in his life up to now. But also something that he hoped he could get used to.

Finally, Bucky squeezed Steve slightly before relaxing his arms again and asking, “How are you feeling?”

Steve hesitated before answering, still pressing his face against Bucky’s shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so easy.”

Bucky frowned and started to speak up, but Steve followed it up, clarifying, “I don’t mean the things you did. Yes, it was easy, just kinda…hanging out. But it’s not like I expected you to go crazy or anything…” Bucky snorted, and he felt Steve smile against him. “I don’t know, I mean… I guess I just didn’t realize it was going to be so easy to— _sink_ into that feeling. Like, I _wanted_ to follow your orders. Wanted to do what you wanted. Felt good when I did. I don’t know if that makes sense…”

It didn’t make sense at all to Bucky. He had never once felt good following an order, at least not one that he could remember. He’s sure he must have followed orders without complaint during the war, but he doubted he ever felt _good_ about it. Not the way Steve was describing.

But then again he could sort of understand what Steve was saying, because wasn’t that feeling the same as what Bucky had felt, but from the _other side?_

It still didn’t make sense though, because giving orders was clearly safer than receiving them. If Steve wanted to follow Bucky’s orders, wouldn’t that be potentially dangerous?

Bucky checked himself to stop his thoughts from spiraling again.

He hadn’t _wanted_ to give Steve an order that would lead to anything dangerous. He had just proven that to himself, hadn’t he?

He wasn’t HYDRA.

He wasn’t his handlers.

He wasn’t _cruel._

He had just wanted to feel safe, and keep Steve safe. Steve made him feel safe.

Always.

“You know,” Bucky told Steve, gently stroking his back, “I don’t think I would mind doing this again sometime.”

Steve nodded against him, almost shyly, and Bucky had never seen that emotion in him before. “I think I’d like that too.” He cuddled closer, tucking himself tighter to fit.

They stayed like that for a while, just breathing each other in.

If all they ever did was this, relaxing together, then Bucky would be fine with that. They didn’t actually get to do it all too often, so that alone would make the ‘experiment’ worth it.

*

They didn’t talk about it exactly, but the following days were easy in a way that was different, yet somehow familiar. They fell into old banter that they hadn’t touched in this century yet, and they found more reasons to touch each other.

Not that they hadn’t before, because they certainly had, once Bucky had started thinking for himself and some of his memories returned.

They’d had sex since Bucky had come home, of course. Sort of. Granted it had mostly been handjobs with a blowjob here and there. They were intimate things, their bodies pressed close together because they couldn’t stand to not feel the heat of each other’s skin, and it had carried over to their everyday life.

But now it just felt both more casual and yet more purposeful. Like they were trying to learn each other again in a new light.

They got distracted by a few errands throughout the week; Bucky with his therapy, and Steve with his meetings down at the VA and some light Avenging (Tuesday had been a weird day in terms of some super-powered individuals trying to rob a bank using plants, but Steve had returned home within a few hours). Bucky’s therapy didn’t seem as daunting as it usually did. But he knew his therapist could tell there was something different.

She was really good, this one, and she didn’t force Bucky to talk about it. She only left him with the ominous statement of “You’ll talk eventually,” and then Bucky was free.

The following night marked exactly a week since they’d done their _scene_ , and Bucky was actually dying to try again, planning on bringing the subject up at dinner that night.

Steve, as always, beat him to the punch and mentioned it within two minutes of Bucky getting home.

“Hey, Buck. Good day?” Steve asked, walking up to give him a hug. Bucky returned it and they both held it for a beat longer than they had before last week.

“I’m doing alright. Helped Natasha test some new things on the range.” That had been fun; he may not need to use a gun anymore, but he still liked doing something he was good at.

“That sounds exciting. I know she wanted to pick your brain over different models.” Steve let Bucky go enough to slide his hand down to grip Bucky’s. He led Bucky over to the couch and they sat down together, facing each other. Steve propped up an arm on the back of the couch as he ducked his head, clearly trying to find the words to say something.

“Did you have a good day?” Bucky prompted, kicking off his shoes and pulling a leg up to tuck his toes under Steve’s thigh.

Steve looked up and smiled softly, a shy look on his face. “I did. I’ve been…thinking.”

Bucky’s stomach swooped, really hoping the conversation was going to go the way he thought it was going, and feeling just as shy about bringing it up— and since when had they ever been _shy?_ Not even at the very beginning when they were dancing around each other were they like this, acting like lovestruck teenagers sneaking around behind their parents’ backs.

“What were you thinking about?” Bucky felt almost breathless.

Steve shrugged casually, but Bucky could see it for the act it was. “Just... about what we did last week. And wondering…”

“Yeah?” Bucky prodded.

“Wanted to know if you wanted to do it again. Sometime…soon.”

Bucky wiggled his toes under Steve, and reached out to take his hand. Steve didn’t hesitate in interlocking his fingers with Bucky’s metal ones. “I think we can arrange something tonight.” Steve shot him a genuine smile. “Did you have anything particular in mind? Some fantasy you’ve been thinking about all week?”

Bucky sure did.

Steve’s face flushed a little bit: half-embarrassment, half-arousal. “Honestly, all of my fantasies revolve around doing whatever you want, if you can believe it. What about you? Did you have anything in mind?”

Bucky tried not to blush, caught out and feeling guilty. But Steve saw it and just grinned.

“I mean, I’ve been thinking, we could—” Bucky started, but Steve stopped him.

“It’s okay. I don’t have to hear them.” Bucky twitched in confusion, but Steve elaborated, “I don’t have to hear them, because I expect you to show me them.”

Steve’s earnest, expectant look was so sweet, and Bucky had no choice but to lean over and kiss him. He brought his hand to cup the back of Steve’s head, pulling him against him and deepening the kiss until Steve moaned, a little helpless sound.

When he broke the kiss, Steve tried to follow his mouth for a moment but Bucky squeezed the nape of his neck and Steve stilled.

“We need dinner first. I know I’m hungry, which means you’re starving.” Steve started, caught between wanting to keep kissing Bucky and arguing Bucky’s point, but before he could put his thoughts in order, Bucky challenged, “Are you really going to tell me you ate something before I got here?”

Steve’s mouth snapped closed, and Bucky smirked. “Thought so. C’mon.”

With a big huff of breath, Bucky got off the couch and made his way to the kitchen. He had filled a pot of water and was putting it on the heat by the time Steve came in, obviously distracted.

It was simple to just hand Steve things and instruct him around the kitchen, not ordering, per say, but gentle guidance. Let him help him make dinner, which was simple enough. A little spaghetti carbonara to fill them up.

Bucky had expected to have to push Steve into eating, but by the time he had the food prepared in front of the both of them Steve’s stomach was audibly growling, and without any encouragement he dug right in, fully appreciating Bucky’s cooking.

Eating his own forkful, Bucky was glad he made them stop to eat before getting up to no good. Plus, it gave him a little extra time to think about what he wanted, and make plans.

They didn’t talk much— both of them clearly thinking about what was going to happen after dinner— so the scrape of utensils against the plate startled Bucky into focusing again. Steve had finished and was watching Bucky expectantly, a giddy expression threatening to break out across his face. Bucky couldn’t help chuckling at the sight because Steve was so bad at hiding his emotions, but he couldn’t fault him because he was just as excited himself.

Bucky forced himself to eat one more bite before calling it quits, pushing the plate away.

Holding Steve’s gaze, Bucky got up from the table and made his way to Steve, stopping right next to his chair. Steve turned, never breaking eye contact, and looked up at Bucky from where he was still seated. With clear movements, Bucky reached out both his hands to take Steve’s face, thumbs rubbing once against his cheekbones before he leaned down to kiss him.

He kept it chaste, feeling Steve’s tension underneath and refusing to deepen it. When he pulled back, Steve made a soft, sad sound.

“Are you ready to start now?” Bucky asked, his pulse quickening.

Steve tried to nod, but stopped when Bucky tightened his hold. Instead, he let out a breathless, “Please.”

Bucky tipped his forehead against Steve’s, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing, settling. He could feel Steve breathing with him, and he loved their connection.

He felt a little giddy. There was a rush of _something_ at getting to do this again.

When he opened his eyes Steve still hadn’t moved, but his entire focus and attention was on Bucky. He couldn’t help but grin at that as he ordered, “Go and relieve yourself in the bathroom.”

Almost immediately, Steve sprang into action and stumbled at the first step when he realized Bucky was still crowding him. He caught himself and moved swiftly around Bucky, following through with the command.

It only took him a couple of minutes, by which time Bucky had moved back into his chair at the dining table. Earlier he had noticed that he had a perfect line of sight to the kitchen, and he was determined to put that to good use.

When Steve came back, he settled into a parade rest position in front of Bucky. All of his attention was directed on Bucky’s face, and his pupils were already dilated with excitement.

Bucky could relate. His excitement was nearly bursting out of him as well, but he reeled it in and forced his voice to sound sure and authoritative as he ordered, “Take off your shirt.”

As Steve complied, Bucky kept speaking, “Reason being, I don’t want you to dirty your clothes, obviously.” He knew he didn’t need to give Steve a reason for his orders, but he felt a little bit sassy tonight. He couldn’t remember if he ever engaged in dirty talk before the war, but he figured he must have since it felt like a natural progression of things, even if his skills might be a bit rusty.

“Fold your shirt, please.” Bucky said when he saw Steve about to throw the shirt on top of a chair. Steve grinned at the order and set about folding the shirt. Bucky couldn’t help smirking when Steve put on a show, emphasizing how crisp his folds were.

When he finished he returned to his position, almost lightly bouncing on his feet in anticipation of the next direction. Bucky didn’t disappoint him.

“Clean up the table.”

Something flashed across Steve’s face before it settled into something between resolution and eagerness. It was too quick for Bucky to really parse its meaning, and then Steve was complying wordlessly.

That struck Bucky as interesting. Steve hadn’t spoken much the first time they’d done this either, and Bucky wondered if he was settling into the role in his own way.

Steve was careful as he took everything to the kitchen. He did it in a couple of trips, which Bucky found amusing as any other time he knew Steve would have piled everything up together and balanced it in favor of just making the one trip. Once the table was immaculate, Steve opened the dishwasher, and went to load it.

“Stop.”

Steve paused, plate in hand. He looked up expectantly at Bucky.

“Wash it by hand.” Bucky told him, voice low.

Steve nodded in acknowledgment and closed the dishwasher before starting the water. Grabbing a sponge, Steve added soap and set about cleaning the plates, taking a little extra time with each one. Slowly, each plate and utensil was set next to the sink to dry.

Bucky watched him the whole time, pleased with how Steve was really going above and beyond with his orders. He saw the moment that Steve reached out to grab a glass, and accidentally tipped it at an angle for the water to catch the rim. The result was very wet as it splashed everything in a wide radius, making Steve jump at the water contact.

Immediately, Steve went to grab a towel, but Bucky barked at him, “Wait!”

Steve froze, fingers barely touching the towel. Bucky got up and walked to him.

“ _Fuck,_ you’re such a good listener.” Bucky cooed, “I’m so proud of you.” Steve shivered, and Bucky knew it was more from his words than the cooling water on his skin.

“I’ve never had anyone follow my orders so well as you.” He didn’t bother to mention how he’s never had anyone follow his orders in the first place, at least not that he can remember. For this, it didn’t matter.

Reaching across Steve, Bucky grabbed the towel, saying, “It’s such a shame that your perfect body got all wet. All that dirty dish water.” He put the towel under the faucet, dampening it with clean water.

“Turn towards me, please.”

Steve, who still hadn’t moved up until then, finally shifted. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and his breathing was slightly fast. His chest was moving rapidly up and down, and Bucky couldn’t help staring.

He reached out with the towel, set to clean Steve’s body starting with his abs, and watched as the muscles jumped at the cold touch. Bucky was positive Steve didn’t mean to let out that small sound when the cloth pressed against his skin.

“Sorry,” Bucky apologized half-heartedly, continuing to wipe. “Stand still though. I don’t want to make a mess.”

Steve didn’t move an inch, staring intently at Bucky.

As Bucky made his way around Steve’s body he couldn’t help telling him, “God, just look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful. And you’re being so, _so_ good.” He straightened up, grabbed a bowel from the drying rack and filled it with water before shutting it off. Setting the bowl on the counter, Bucky dipped the towel in the water and returned to Steve, wiping at his chest now.

“You know you deserve this body, and all the good things that go with it.”

The skin under the towel was flushing red, and not just from Bucky’s ministrations. When he glanced up he saw that Steve was blushing furiously, and Bucky was amazed that he still wasn’t talking. At any other time Steve would be arguing with all his righteous anger, complaining about his enhanced body and how he didn’t feel right in it or worthy of it.

This time, however, he just accepted Bucky’s words, however hard that must have been for him.

After rinsing the towel again, Bucky doubled back to Steve’s stomach, cleaning lower, and watching as drops of water slid down his skin to gather at the top of his sweatpants.

“Oh dear,” Bucky commented dryly, “I seem to have gotten your pants dirty. We’re going to have to clean _them_ now.” Steve let out a short breath, his muscles practically vibrating with anticipation. “I should have thought to tell you to strip the pants off earlier along with your shirt, but…oh well. We’ll try it next time.”

Steve’s chest heaved once before he clearly got himself under control with effort.

Bucky felt himself go warm with the thought of how much he was affecting Steve.

He slipped a finger under the waistband of Steve’s sweatpants and pulled slightly before tapping him on the thighs, silently indicating he wanted them off. Steve sprang into action, shucking his pants down to his ankles and stepping out of them in one movement, straightening up again immediately when he was done.

Bucky forgot to tell him to fold them because he was too distracted by Steve’s cock, hard in his briefs.

Raising an eyebrow, Bucky hummed in appreciation. Steve shuddered but didn’t try to hide it.

It was pointless to rinse the towel again but he had a charade to keep up, so Bucky halfheartedly squeezed it before coming back, dripping it lower and cleaning around Steve’s underwear. He reached lower to clean Steve’s thighs, running the towel up through the inner junction, and Steve’s cock obviously jumped.

“Hmm,” Bucky started, forcing his voice to sound bland and casual, “I think I need a better reach.” With that, he quickly knelt in front of Steve, eyes level with his cock.

Steve’s breath left him in a rush at that, and Bucky grinned, continuing his slow trek of washing Steve’s legs all the way down to his feet. He didn’t even miss between the toes. “Can’t neglect a single inch of this perfect body, Steve.”

When he started up on the other leg, Bucky could feel and _see_ the tremble that went through Steve’s body, growing more and more continuous as he went. A glance up, and Bucky realized that Steve was surprisingly close to coming.

His eyes were hooded, though he still watched Bucky; his breath was coming out hard, and the flush had spread to his entire body.

Making his way back up, Bucky purposefully bypassed Steve’s cock and got up to rinse the towel out again. “That’s all nice and clean. But— _tsk_ — can’t forget these magnificent arms.” Bucky almost pointed out how Steve was actually starting to sweat a little bit, a very fine sheen  on his skin that usually only happened when he ran a few miles.

Bucky decided against it and instead groped Steve’s biceps, clearly admiring them as he ran the towel slowly over them. It was easy for him to turn the arms any way he wanted, grinning the whole time at how pliant Steve was being.

“My, these are certainly worthy of some divine attention, aren’t they?” He followed some prominent veins down the forearms, noting how Steve alternated between flexing reflexively and forcing himself to relax.

Bucky cleaned under his nails as well.

 “These hands carry the world, Steve. Gotta make sure you’re being taken care of.” He was filled with a rush of mischievousness that he knew must have been buried all this time. He remembered he always loved riling Steve up and now he felt that urge again, even if the situation was a little different.

Finishing up with the arms, Bucky turned his attention to Steve’s chest and neck.

“Look at you.” Bucky followed the clear definition of muscle groups, emphasizing each one. “So strong, and so good.” Steve’s breath hitched. “Even if no one ever asked you to, you’d still bear other people’s burdens on these shoulders.”

That finally got Steve to break a little bit, leaning towards Bucky when he moved the towel away.

Immediately, Bucky barked out, “At attention, soldier!”

Steve’s reaction was instant, straightening up and returning to perfect posture. His other reaction was just as good, when Bucky saw his cock visibly jump.

There was even a little wet spot beading at his underwear.

“Better.”

Casually, Bucky trailed a finger up the obvious bulge, making Steve shudder and moan before quickly straightening up again, not needing another reminder.

“You better not be thinking about making another mess for me to clean up.”

“No, sir.” Steve finally spoke, his voice hoarse and gravely.

Bucky felt his own cock show interest at that, finally acknowledging that he was just as hard as Steve.

His voice didn’t crack, but it was a near thing when he finally got out, “Good.”

He kept his finger slowly sliding up and down Steve’s cock, enjoying the little twitches and quiet pants coming from Steve. The wet patch grew larger, and Bucky couldn’t even begin to describe how he was feeling in that moment.

He felt _in control…_

And in charge…

And he didn’t know if he was supposed to, but damn it if he was going to give this feeling up.

Not here, not now.

He had Steve to take care of first.

He took his finger away and Steve barely restrained himself from following the touch.

“Turn around.” Bucky ordered, and Steve obeyed.

Bucky took his time starting anew, washing Steve’s back meticulously, from head to toe.

By the time he was done, he walked around to face Steve and saw that his eyes had finally slipped closed, and he was breathing hard from his open mouth. The wet stain was beyond ridiculous by now, but Bucky was pleased to see that Steve was dutifully following his implied order.

“You know, your underwear is absolutely filthy now.” Bucky remarked, “And after _all_ that hard work I’ve put into cleaning you up. Take them off—  they’ll have to be cleaned.”

Steve flat out whimpered at Bucky’s order but he obediently complied, slipping his underwear down his legs to join the crumpled sweatpants on the floor.

Bucky didn’t mind. He’d make him fold them some other time.

Now though, he could appreciate the full length of Steve’s cock when he straightened up. It was hard and still leaking, precome beading at the tip.

Pointedly washing the towel again, Bucky stepped up to Steve. “Hold still.”

With one hand, he grabbed Steve’s cock holding it immobile, and with the other, brought the towel down. Painstakingly, Bucky made a show of cleaning his cock, swiping slowly up the length, and passing across the head frequently; he paid extra attention just under the crown of his cock, lingering just long enough to elicit a shudder.

Of course, it was obviously a fruitless endeavor to expect any sort of real cleanliness, not when with every pass he made more precome beaded out at the end of Steve’s cock. But it was worth it just to hear Steve’s pained breaths as he struggled to hold still, desperately trying not to jerk into Bucky’s grip, and only narrowly succeeding.

Bucky was actually proud of his restraint.

He made him suffer for a few more agonizing moments before finally releasing him. He couldn’t help smirking when Steve breathed out a harsh sigh of relief.

But Bucky wasn’t done just yet, so he doled out another of his obviously fake excuses. “Gotta make sure every part of you is clean, Stevie. Don’t wanna miss a single spot.”

Steve startled at the nickname, and forgot his place momentarily, taking a step closer to Bucky and looking at him in awe.

“Turn around and grip the sink, Rogers.” Bucky barked out, and Steve shook himself out of it—  got back in the program— but it took him an extra beat to actually follow through, his eyes glued to Bucky’s.

When he was finally in position, Bucky ordered quietly, “Bend over.”

Steve visibly sucked in a breath.

Slower than with any other order— but no less willingly— he finally did it, bending over and presenting Bucky with his asshole.

It was decadently obscene, and Bucky had to palm himself for a moment, taking slow breaths to steady himself.

He was so hard and _god_ , he just wanted to fuck Steve more than anything. The feeling was overwhelmingly powerful and new— or at least, new in this century for him— and it took him a minute to get himself back under control.

After all, he had a plan.

He reached out and grabbed a good handful of ass, pulling it slightly to the side to expose Steve utterly. The hole was dusky pink and inviting, and Bucky felt the urge to shove his face against it and eat him out but he fought it, knowing that would be a goal for another time.

Steve, for his part, just whimpered with need.

Cleaning the newly exposed flesh, Bucky made sure to be as thorough as possible, though he wasn’t necessarily being clinical about it anymore. Steve knew it too, and couldn’t help the litany of noises and pants escaping from between his clenched teeth.

Bucky took a quick look and sure enough, Steve was still leaking precome steadily from his cock, ruining his earlier cleaning work by smearing along his thighs and dripping down onto the floor.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Is that all for me, baby?” Bucky asked, wiping Steve’s crack on a pass with the towel.

Steve just moaned.

“Yeah, I bet it is. No matter how much I clean you up, you’re just gonna get all dirty again for me, I know. It’s okay Stevie. I got time.” With that declaration Bucky made another pass, but this time he dug a little bit into Steve’s hole, feeling the muscles twitch and give a little under his fingers.

Every pass from then on, Bucky took a moment to push in a bit, just to feel how Steve gradually opened up for him.

“Gonna get you so fuckin’ clean.” Bucky growled. Steve’s hole was turning red from all the attention, and Bucky spared an idle thought to wonder if he could get it the same shade as Steve’s blush.

Eventually Steve’s resolve finally broke and he choked out a “Please!”

Apparently that was the last straw for Bucky too, and before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself lying across Steve’s back and wrapping a hand around to grip his cock, jacking him hard and fast.

“Come, baby, come. Come for me right now.” Bucky barely recognized his own voice, but Steve only cried out and did just that, helplessly shaking under Bucky. He managed to cover Bucky’s hand, spilling over to spurt stripes of come on the floor to join the mess already there.

Bucky didn’t realize he was gasping himself, mindlessly rutting against Steve’s sensitive ass and coming in his pants just a few strokes after Steve. He groaned out his release against Steve’s shoulder, panting and raising goosebumps as his breath touched sweat-slicked skin.

Steve’s grip on the sink faltered— as did the strength in his knees— and then he was sliding down, taking Bucky with him. They sprawled on top of each other on the kitchen floor, both of them breathing hard and fast.

It was long minutes before Bucky cracked an eye open to see that Steve’s were still closed. A giggle bubbled up from his chest when he saw that Steve was honestly sweaty and wrecked as fuck.

They both were, really.

“Hmm?” Steve inquired, still refusing to move an inch.

Instead of answering, Bucky just stifled his bubbling laughter and reached out to pull Steve against him, loving how easily Steve allowed it. They were both ignoring the fact that they had definitely landed in Steve’s come, and were currently still cuddled up in the middle of the mess. Bucky’s pants were completely ruined but he didn’t care. Right now he was just happy to hold Steve and breathe together, coming down slowly. Steve seemed just as content to do the same.

When they had calmed down enough, Steve broke the silence, saying, “That was definitely the best orgasm I’ve had since I’ve woken up from the ice.”

Bucky snorted. “What were all the other orgasms I gave you?— Chopped liver?” He was joking but he also knew what Steve meant, and agreed.

He shifted slightly and felt the tacky and sticky feeling of sweat and semen crusting all over their skin. Bucky groaned, and then giggled again.

“All that work cleaning you, and it’s just… gone to waste.” Bucky pointed out, the feelings of disgust starting to creep in.

“Then I guess you’ll have to start over.” Steve said shyly, with a hint of hope lacing his voice. It was a promise and a plan, and it was very plain to see that Steve was fully on board to do this— whatever this was— again.

“Yes.” Bucky whispered, tugging Steve closer. “Yes, we can definitely do it again.” He squeezed him tightly and felt Steve melt into the embrace. “But for now, I’ll settle for a regular shower.”

He relaxed his hold, and Steve laughed. “Yeah, I can agree with that.”

They still were lazy about it though, and it took a few more long minutes before they finally let out a big sigh and got up, stretching and picking up the clothes to put in the laundry.

“Go and shower first. I can clean up the floor.” Bucky told him, surprised at how he was still giving out orders even if they were scaled back in intensity. He almost apologized but Steve agreed easily, nodding without comment. Before he left, though, he paused and then turned around to pull Bucky in by his shirt, standing very close.

Bucky’s breath caught.

They had kissed before— of course they had— but this one was _different._

Steve actually asked, “Can I kiss you?” in that shy way Bucky was learning to love.

Bucky instantly closed the space between them in answer, kissing Steve deeply. He relished the feeling of neither one dominating or ceding ground, just enjoying the sensations passing between them as they held each other. When they finally came to a natural break, they were both panting again, and a simmering of heat had returned to the air.

“Go,” Bucky cleared his voice before cheekily ordering, “Go wash up, Rogers.”

Steve laughed breathlessly, his eyes a little wide before turning to go. Of course, that presented Bucky with the opportunity to reach out and playfully slap his ass as he moved away, which made Steve give a higher-pitched, “Hey!”

Bucky didn’t feel bad at all, especially when Steve in turn wiggled his butt for him.

He watched Steve walk away until he disappeared through the hallway before Bucky turned to his own tasks at hand. He looked at the floor and sighed for a moment, and then began stripping out of his disgusting clothes. Gathering up his and Steve’s stuff, he took them to the laundry, setting up the load.

Coming back to the kitchen, he could distantly hear the shower running.

By the time the shower turned off Bucky had just finished wiping everything down, and was more than ready for his own shower, having taken a detour to throw the towels into the wash as well.

He walked back to the bedrooms and passed by Steve in the hall.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve began, toweling his hair. “Is, uh— Is there anything you want… me to do?” His face was a little pink, which could have been from the heat of the shower, but his withdrawn tone gave him away.

Honestly, Bucky was a little stunned. He thought that they were done playing, but Steve was clearly still feeling a little in the mood.

“Yeah.” Bucky replied slowly. “Yeah, Steve. Go get dressed for bed and lie on your bed, okay? Wait for me.”

Steve nodded seriously and went to go do that while Bucky found himself in his bathroom, thinking hard. He moved on autopilot through his shower, wondering why Steve would want to keep doing this… _thing_ between them, but then he stopped himself.

The argument could be made that Bucky still wanted to give orders. He was still giving them afterwards— even if they were coming out more like jokes or with less force behind them, they were still there.

While he may not understand this thing brewing between them completely, he wasn’t about to start fighting it. After all they were both in it together, and they would figure out together where this path would lead.

For now, he finished up in the shower and dried off, intent to join Steve in bed.

When he entered Steve’s bedroom, Steve was exactly where Bucky knew he would be, and though he was curled up in bed, his eyes were trained steadily on the door, snapping to Bucky the second he walked over the threshold.

Bucky crawled in between the sheets, and they both shifted until Bucky had Steve tucked in and cuddled into him.

“Good job.” Bucky whispered, feeling the need to show how proud he was of Steve.

Steve’s breath hitched in his chest, and Bucky could feel it from where his hand was pressed there under his shirt. Gently, he rubbed the skin until the tension eased away. It didn’t take long, and before he knew it, they were both drifting off to sleep, exhausted.

*

The next day they talked.

Bucky thought of it more as a debrief, and he found he wasn’t exactly wrong.

He thought talking about their feelings was going to be hard— like pulling teeth— but he found that they were both surprisingly eager to learn more about this new dynamic between them. Bucky was glad, because he didn’t think this would work out in the long term without communication. It was true that they knew each other better than anyone—even themselves—, but that was before HYDRA, before falling— before the war.

They still knew each other better than anyone else, but there were holes that they both fell into with the ease of familiarity, and they didn’t want to trip, not with this. So they talked about what they had expected, what had happened, and how they felt about it.

Turned out, they were both so much on the same fucking page, it was almost unnatural.

“I mean, it was pretty much what I thought was going to happen, Buck. I figured you’d tell me what to do, and I’d do it. And I did it. And it felt…god, Buck. It felt _good_.”

Bucky swallowed, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Steve shifted his position on the couch, facing Bucky. “It’s like... everything else kinda melted away or something. And all I had to focus on was you. It felt really freeing… Which— I know that doesn’t sound right, but— I don’t know. It just felt _right_ to be able to let go like that.”

Steve’s cheeks seemed like they were a perpetual pink this morning, but his voice was steady enough. He may not have known exactly _why_ he felt the way he did, but he was confident that it was fine either way.

“I don’t quite understand wanting to give up that level of control, and I don’t think I’m ever going to want to try, but…” Bucky stretched out a leg, tucking his toes under Steve’s thigh, and poking him with the other foot. Steve automatically caught it and started rubbing the underside. “It felt really good giving you an order. That part was nice. But it felt even better when you followed it, Stevie. You tried so fucking hard, and…” Bucky lost his words for a moment, trying to convey the gratitude he felt for what Steve had given him. “I mean, it’s like you said. It just felt fucking good.”

Steve smiled. “Like two sides of a coin, it seems. It’s a good balance.”

“Yeah.” Bucky agreed. “That’s pretty much it. What else would you want, though?”

Steve dug his thumbs into the arch of Bucky’s foot, making him groan in relief for a moment. “Honestly? I don’t have specifics. I just want what you want.”

That was the same answer he’d given Bucky before— and it seemed very vague and scary to Bucky with its endless possibilities— but Bucky trusted Steve to know himself. It wasn’t like they were trying to overanalyze themselves. That wasn’t what this was for.

“I, uh. I want to try a bunch of stuff, I think.” Bucky began, pulling his foot from Steve’s grasp and switching his feet. Steve didn’t hesitate to start rubbing the other foot.

At his, “Hmm?” Bucky continued.

“I don’t know. I’ve seen… a couple things… on the internet that might interest us. And I know there’s so much more on there that we haven’t touched on yet.”

Steve snickered, “Yeah, the internet is pretty helpful in finding new things to try out. And buy things, if you’re interested in that…” He trailed off, and Bucky suddenly knew that Steve had seen a lot more than he had over the past couple days.

Probably longer, if Bucky was being honest.

It didn’t matter because Bucky _was_ interested. Very much.

“Wanna show me some things, Rogers?” Bucky asked rhetorically. Steve’s answer was to drop Bucky’s foot and reach for his laptop that he’d left on the coffee table the night before.

Steve pulled the laptop back onto the couch, settling it on his lap, and Bucky scooted over to sit right next to Steve, leaning on him a little.

“I mean— I saw a few things, but I know there’s more.” Steve offered, half in explanation, half in apology as he brought up a few sites.

They mostly skimmed what was there, Bucky now appreciating the more ‘naughty’ parts that he had previously ignored.

Sex hadn’t necessarily been at the forefront of their minds when they first started this, but now it certainly was.

Bucky hadn’t known there was such a wide variety of things you could _do_.

He learned about positions.

Toys.

Activities.

Restraints.

Scenarios.

Roleplay.

Clothes.

And so much more.

By late lunchtime, they had both erections, plenty of ideas and a full shopping cart.

Bucky appreciated Steve’s input and suggestions—between colors, and possibilities— even if he was being very accommodating when Bucky asked his opinion. It really did seem like Steve was up for experimenting with almost anything at least once, if it was something Bucky wanted to try.

They’d also quickly figured out what they _didn’t_ want to try. Or at least, Bucky figured it out, and Steve agreed readily.

But for now though, they were both getting too distracted by the pressing situation in their pants.

Closing the laptop lid, Bucky pulled it from Steve’s lap, where it had barely been covering a growing bulge in Steve’s sweatpants. He laid it gently back on the coffee table, and turned back to Steve who was watching Bucky hungrily.

It was ridiculously easy to push Steve down onto the couch. Dropping his voice a bit, Bucky told him, “Put your hands above your head. And don’t. Move. Them.”

Steve’s eyes widened comically and he quickly moved to comply, reaching above his head to grip the armrest of the couch. He watched eagerly as Bucky sidled down and started tugging at his sweatpants. Being helpful as always, Steve lifted his hips enough for Bucky to pull the sweats down and off, letting his cock spring free.

Bucky’s mouth was already watering from the thought of what he had planned.

“Steve?”

Steve looked up slowly, his eyes wide and dark with arousal. “Yeah?” he asked breathless, and _god_ , Bucky hadn’t even _started_ yet.

“Don’t come until I say so.”

 That pulled a whimper out of Steve as he quietly answered, “Yes, sir.”

Bucky’s cock gave an emphatic twitch at that, and without further ceremony Bucky went to town, putting his mouth on Steve with the sole focus of driving Steve out of his mind.

He’d given the occasional blowjob here and there since he’d been living with Steve, but it wasn’t until now that he remembered just how much he enjoyed giving head. He loved exploring what made Steve’s breath hitch, and what made his thighs quiver. He took his time, not wanting to rush it— he wanted to make it last, not get him off quickly like he might have done a few weeks ago.

The result was more than satisfying.

Steve made sweet noises each time Bucky focused on certain spots— his soft inner thigh, Bucky’s nose brushing along the shaft of his cock, tongue swiping broadly along the head, sucking gently with his mouth just enough to make Steve’s whole body jerk but not enough to let him find relief. Steve’s orgasm was clearly building up, and Bucky wasn’t giving him space to breathe or rest.

Soon enough, Steve started to whine in the back of his throat and his thighs started shaking in the tale-tell sign that he was bristling with the need to come. Bucky pulled gently off his cock with a last kiss to the head. He had to grip Steve’s thighs and hold him down for a moment when Steve tried to follow him up.

“You’re being so good for me, aren’t you?” Bucky asked, nodding towards Steve’s hands, which hadn’t budged from where Bucky had instructed him to place them above his head. Bucky could see the whites of Steve’s knuckles, from how hard he was holding onto the couch.

Steve’s answering whine was thin, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to steady his breath.

“Yeah, you are.” Bucky pulled Steve a little bit further down and then stood up, shucking off his own sweatpants. He had to stroke himself a couple of times, just to cue in to the mindless pleasure, but then he refocused on his goal, carefully rearranging himself so that he could straddle Steve’s face, his knees on either side of the couch. Steve looked up, and Bucky had to squeeze the base of his cock at the look of utter worship on Steve’s face.

It was practically _criminal,_ and what had Bucky ever done to deserve this?

No. He wasn’t going to argue with the results— just enjoy it.

Feeling steady again, Bucky reached out with his flesh hand and let his fingers trail along Steve’s cheek. When he traced Steve’s lips, he let his fingers be sucked in— Steve’s tongue darted out to lick him.

“You ready for me, baby?”

Steve only sucked him harder, flattening his tongue against the pads of Bucky’s fingers. “Okay, okay.” Bucky pulled his fingers out and without preamble, he fed his cock into Steve’s mouth in their place.

_Fuck._

That tight, hot heat, enveloping him was bliss. For all of Bucky’s newfound love of performing oral sex, he had nothing on Steve’s _eagerness_ when he went down on someone. Even now, with this new awkward angle, Steve still gave the best head, all careful consideration and pure delight.

“So good— _fuck_ — you make me feel so good, Stevie.” Bucky groaned out. He ended up doubling over a bit, and reached out to grip the arm rests of the couch, half-lying over Steve’s hands. “You doing so good, keeping these here.” He moved, shifting his weight to completely cover Steve’s hands, intertwining their fingers as best as they could, given their position.

“You gonna make me come?” Bucky asked, feeling Steve swallow around him, and groaning out the last syllable.

Steve’s fingers twitched but he kept them right where he was supposed to.

“Do it. Make me come, baby.”

Steve seemed to surge up a bit, all enthusiasm now that he had permission. Bucky almost had to stop him when he felt himself slip further in, his throat opening up for Bucky in a way that was unexpected. The pleased look on Steve’s face was enough to show that he was enjoying himself immensely.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Bucky was breathing hard, feeling himself nearing the edge. Steve kept swallowing around him, and then Bucky’s cock was completely in his throat. Letting his metal hand slip down, he could feel the outline of his cock in Steve’s throat, and that was the last straw for Bucky. He almost doubled over with the feeling, grunting when Steve still didn’t let up.

When he came down a bit, he found he had gripped Steve’s throat, his fingers pressing down slightly. He pulled himself out— wincing as the air touched his wet cock— but he kept his grip steady. Steve watched him calmly, the proud look in his eyes familiar.

Shifting his leg off of the couch, his other one still kneeling, Bucky ducked down to kiss Steve. Steve opened up for him sweetly, and Bucky could taste himself on his tongue. Pulling back an inch, Bucky whispered, “You’re mine.”

Steve’s eyes darkened even more. Very purposefully, Steve stared at Bucky and then tipped his head back, putting more pressure from Bucky’s grip onto his throat. The metal arm _whirred_ quietly, fingers digging in a fraction more. He wasn’t constricting anything, but as Bucky watched for a moment, he noticed how Steve was holding his breath.

He held on for another moment, watching Steve watch _him_ , and contemplated squeezing just a little bit more, but then Bucky chose to release him all of a sudden, making Steve gasp.

His grip had left white indentations that were quickly fading to red marks.

Even those would fade within the next couple minutes.

“Mine.” Bucky growled. He dropped one more chaste kiss on Steve’s lips and then made his way down the couch, settling back between Steve’s legs.

“And you know me,” he kept talking, continuing his own conversation, “I like to play with things that are mine.” He leaned against the back of the couch and picked up Steve’s cock, which had curved over to the side. It hadn’t gone completely soft, but it definitely perked back up again as Bucky began to toy with it.

He stroked his fingers up and down the length, alternating between his metal and flesh hand, and he could tell the slight changes in texture and temperatures were quickly driving Steve insane. “Hmm, you know— I’m really excited to try out all of the things we bought.”

His tone was casual, even as he watched Steve’s cock begin to drool precome all over his fingers. Bucky simply smeared it all over the shaft.

“We got some restraints. That’s exciting. Wonder if you’ll break them, or be good for me?” Steve whined in disagreement. “Yeah, you’ll be good for me. I know.”

Bucky alternated grip and pressure, riling Steve up and then easing off for a moment before starting the cycle all over again.

“God, Stevie. The things we looked up? We could never have dreamed about them back before the war.” Steve moaned throatily. “We’re pretty fucking lucky to be able to try things out in this century. Play with things that they’ve perfected over the years.”

Steve was losing his mind, shaking and twitching— everything but his hands. He was desperately still obeying that order, and Bucky was immensely pleased.

“We’re going to do so much, you and me. All the things we saw? I’m going to make you feel so good, Stevie.” Bucky zeroed in on the spot just under the head of Steve’s cock, his thumbs swiping slowly back and forth. The skin was so soft there, and Bucky remembered he’d always been fascinated by the reactions he could pull from Steve. Granted, he’d never actually taken the time to explore the way he was doing now, but they were nice memories nonetheless.

Now he got to simply play, and he felt like it was Christmas already.

Steve on the other hand, finally broke and spoke for the first time since they’d started, begging, “Please, please, pl—” He cut himself off with a groan, the muscles in his legs spasming.

Bucky’s voice was dark and sharp when he said, “Not yet.”

Steve’s eyes widened, surprised, before snapping them closed in concentration. His chest heaved with gasps and Bucky could see him tremble all over with effort.

“So good for me.” Bucky, on the other hand, refused to back down, and that made Steve’s determination all that more impressive.

“Please? Please!” Steve shouted after another couple of moments of Bucky rubbing ruthlessly— still the same spot that he knew was driving Steve crazy.

“Wait.”

Steve whimpered again, the sound absolutely pathetic, but he still held on.

Bucky marveled at how even when he switched to his metal hand, he could almost feel the phantom silkiness of the same spot. His hand gleamed where precome slid over his fingers.

“You’re so goddamn wet, Stevie.” He switched his hands again and brought metal fingers to his mouth, licking the precome off and closing his eyes against the slight bitter and salty taste.

“Please, please, please, sir— please!” Steve’s voice croaked and sounded harsh with exertion, and when Bucky looked at his disheveled face, he spied tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes. His hairline was already damp with sweat, but still, his hands remained where they were.

“Just a little bit longer. Wait.”

Steve outright sobbed at that, but still _somehow_ managed to hold on.

It felt heady, having all of Steve’s stubbornness channeled into something like this— all because Bucky commanded it.

Steve was continuously shaking and panting— crying openly now— and Bucky realized quickly that all the stubbornness in the world wasn’t going to help Steve in a couple of minutes; he was going to come regardless of any order, and Bucky didn’t want him to fail.

“You ready, Stevie?” Bucky asked, switching his grip so that he was stroking him tightly. Steve’s breath sped up sharply and he shook his head from side to side; Bucky knew it was more from the stimulation rather than an actual answer to his question, so he just kept going for a moment longer before finally saying, “Let go. Come for me.”

Steve jackknifed his whole body off the couch, hands finally coming free and reaching out to grip Bucky tightly as he curled into him and himself.

“That’s it, you’re okay.” Bucky coaxed him, still stroking him quickly as he held him with his other arm, keeping him steady. His hand was absolutely covered with come— as was his lap and shirt— but Bucky didn’t care, still jacking him off until Steve whined from too much sensitivity. Only then did he slow down, easing his hold until he was lazily brushing his hand up and down, making Steve shudder in overstimulation.

Bucky followed through with a few more light strokes and then let him go, wiping his hand on his shirt before holding him. “You’re so beautiful, I got you.”

He kept up the litany of reassuring words, whispering them into Steve’s ear when he folded in closer. Steve’s muscles in his back and thighs still shook with the effort, and his grip on Bucky was rigid. He wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Bucky didn’t care, just worked on settling him until Steve’s breathing eased into something more manageable, and his taut muscles relaxed one by one.

He wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually Steve finally relaxed, completely spent and leaning heavily against Bucky. The position probably wasn’t the most comfortable, Bucky thought. So murmuring quiet platitudes, he rearranged Steve until he was lying against Bucky in a better position. Steve was ridiculously easy to manhandle when he was like this, and it felt so sweet and tender that Bucky had to kiss him all over his face.

“So sweet for me, aren’t you?” Bucky whispered, his heart feeling full when he saw Steve’s lips curl into a lopsided smile. There were dried tear tracks along his temples, and Bucky simply kissed them in turn.

They laid there forever, breathing against each other, with Bucky feeling the need to kiss him every now and then. He stroked gentle fingers along the occasional jumping muscle, rubbing the skin lightly as if to erase the movement.

Relaxed and settled, Steve eventually broke the quiet with a deep sigh. Bucky spoke up, then, asking, “Do you want to cuddle some more? Or are you going to let me get up to make us some lunch?”

Steve hummed noncommittally but his stomach answered for him, growling loudly into the silence, and both of them broke into laughter.

Reiterating in English, Steve said, “I—” He paused to cough and clear his throat. Even then, his voice was hoarse. “I would probably go for some food, please.”

“That’s an understatement.” Bucky kissed his cheek, knowing Steve was much hungrier than he was letting on. “Let’s see what we can scrounge up.”

*

The next day came, and they were stupidly excited for their packages to arrive.

Unfortunately, there was some Avengers business that pulled Steve away for most of the day. Luckily it wasn’t a huge danger to the city— just a girl who accidentally gained some powers that she didn’t know how to handle— and the Avengers were only called in case something went wrong.

Steve figured he’d be back by the afternoon, dinner at the latest.

“Still— shitty timing.” Bucky groused, watching Steve pull on his cowl.

“I know.” Steve was just as disappointed. He had been giddy at breakfast, tracking the packages, and his face had fallen instantly when he received the alert. It was like watching a puppy get kicked.

“Well, good luck and don’t die, I guess.” Bucky flopped back down on the couch dramatically. “I have therapy today anyway, so I might as well get it out of the way. Sitting and staring at the door isn’t going to make them get here any faster.”

Steve grabbed his shield and then bent over the back of the couch to drop a quick kiss on Bucky’s forehead. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky just waved him off, and Steve left.

Bucky hadn’t been lying— his session with the mandated therapist was in an hour, and he was almost glad he had something to pass the time while Steve was occupied. Until then though, he ended up cleaning up the apartment, telling himself it was strictly so that they weren’t constantly surrounded by mess, and not because he had plans to fuck Steve on every available surface later that day.

Therapy actually ended up going well, and he didn’t mind talking for once. Not that he didn’t respond to her questions usually, but he never volunteered information on his personal life. Now, though, he ventured to talk about it a little when she asked him if he had any plans for the week.

“I do, actually.” Bucky said, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly with excitement.

“Oh?” His therapist, Launa, led him on.

“Yeah, me and Steve, we uh— we’re trying something new. Or rather,” He corrected himself, “We’ve started something new, and we’re kinda getting into it. Figuring it out.”

Launa looked interested and impressed, probably because Bucky was finally communicating with her. He wondered if this would get him any points in court later— he always thought he’d trudge through this requisite order until the last hearing, but he could also see how therapy could actually help sort things out. Steve had been optimistic about it from the beginning, even when Bucky was hesitant.

“And how is that going for you?” Launa asked.

“It’s, uh... Um— it’s really exciting, actually. Haven’t— I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I’ve been remembering some more things. Or rather, discovering things I’d forgotten— or never really knew about before, I guess.”

“That’s good to hear. It’s nice that you’re doing something together.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his entwined hands, watching as silver from the metal offset his flesh fingers. “Yeah, it’s just—. It’s so new and scary. I’m excited, but I’m also really nervous that I’ll fuck it up. I _really_ don’t want to fuck it up.”

Launa was good. Bucky could give her that. She knew when to push and when to back off, and she seemed fine enough to let the specifics go. “Are you purposefully hurting anyone?”

Bucky thought back to some of the things that they had just bought and scenes that he’d talked about with Steve. Technically, he could end up hurting him, in a way.

“Not purposefully, no.” Bucky settled on.

“Are you being open with Steve? Communicating with each other to understand each others’ emotions and minimize any hurt feelings?”

Bucky could immediately answer that one. “Yes. Definitely.”

“And are you both being fair to each other?”

He stared at her and wondered if she suspected what Bucky was talking about. He brushed it off as paranoia on his part. “Yeah, we’re trying really hard. We’re both getting something out of it.”

Bucky looked up at Launa in time to see her smile. “Then if it’s not setting you back, or putting anyone— including yourself— in real danger, then I think you’re on the right track, James.”

“Yeah?”

Launa tipped her head slightly. “I mean that in my professional opinion, I think it’s important to have healthy outlets. I think the fact that you might have found one that works for both you and Steve is pretty significant, given your history.”

Bucky felt himself smile.

*

By the time he left to go home, he was happy.

He decided to walk home instead of taking the subway again, feeling the need to move and get some energy out. Because of that, he found himself walking along familiar streets and before he knew it, found himself staring at a corner bakery.

He blinked a few times, not understanding why it was so significant until he realized he was remembering the place. He had bought a chocolate éclair here for his mother after he saved up enough money for her birthday. The following year, he’d brought Steve to celebrate his first sold sketch, only pennies to spare between them. He remembered them licking their fingers to get every flake of a single, shared croissant.

Since then, they scraped together any change they could for months just to treat themselves on rainy days.

Somehow, the place was miraculously still open after all these years.

He walked in without a second thought and found out that the owners were now the granddaughters. However they still used the same recipes, and Bucky ended up buying a whole box full of éclairs, croissants, apple turnovers, and a small selection of delicate-looking pastries.

As he was walking out of the bakery, goods in hand, he got a notification from his phone. Pulling it out, Bucky saw that the deliveries they were waiting for were delayed. One was because of bad weather, another because of a wrong number, and another because it simply got lost.

Bucky just stared at his phone, wondering why the world was trying to ruin his good mood.

It took him an entire minute before he decided that no, he wasn’t going to let his mood go south. He was happy, dammit, and he was going to remain happy.

On the rest of his walk he thought carefully of what he and Steve could do together that evening without their new toys; slowly, he constructed his mission plan.

He knew he probably shouldn’t mentally frame it like that, but he couldn’t help it. It felt good to have structure and a purpose— and like his therapist mentioned, it wasn’t hurting anyone. He’d always been goal-oriented, and this was no different.

It was just different goals than he was used to, that was all.

By the time Steve got home that night he had it all planned out, and was excited to start.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve called as he entered the apartment. Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the couch and immediately got up and walked over to him. Steve looked pretty tired as he set the shield down, which Bucky had expected, and allowed for.

“Hey there. Everything alright?” Bucky asked, helping Steve reach the more annoying buckles on his suit.

Steve nodded absently, saying, “Yeah. Her powers are linked to her emotions— so it was a bit dicey at the beginning— but then we figured out that one of her favorite subjects in school is Victorian-era literature. She calmed down pretty quick once we got her talking, and then it was just figuring out what happened from there. SHIELD has her in custody.”

He smiled at Bucky but it was thin, and Bucky could tell that while the danger might have not been high-stakes, Steve still had to remain ‘on’ the whole time, constantly assessing for threats and possible issues that could arise. Taking off the outer part of the uniform, Bucky draped it over the end of the couch and pulled Steve into a hug, murmuring, “C’mere.”

Steve folded gratefully, letting Bucky take some of his weight. He returned the hug, resting his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m kinda tired, Buck.” Steve admitted, sounding regretful.

“I know. That’s why I’m going to take care of you tonight.” Bucky responded, rubbing Steve’s back.

The immediate relief in Steve’s shoulders as he sagged another inch told Bucky that he was on the right track. Pulling back, Steve’s face told the same story; he wasn’t excited, per say, but his eyes held a sort of desperate quality.

It was faintly ridiculous that they already almost had a routine for this. It was still brand new, except for how familiar some aspects of it were.

Bucky wasn’t going to think too hard about it now— he’d thought plenty on it before, and he would again— so he reached out a hand to rest against the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Go freshen up and then come back here dressed comfortably, alright?” It wasn’t really a question, not the way Bucky said it, but Steve still nodded and went to do just that.

Bucky had a little bit of time, knowing Steve would hop in the shower, so he prepared dinner. It was easy and light, just a variety of sandwiches that Bucky put together and then cut into smaller squares. He heard the shower shut off just as he was setting up everything that he’d need at the kitchen table, including grabbing one of the sofa pillows and putting it next to his chair.

He waited sitting sideways at the table, so he saw when Steve came out looking a little haggard but clean. His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead like he had barely taken the time to dry it. He looked comfortable which was exactly what Bucky wanted, wearing a soft sleep shirt with long sleeves and some favorite old sweats.

“Good job.” Bucky complimented him. Steve flushed dully, no doubt feeling a little self-conscious about how effortlessly he earned the praise. Bucky was going to have to work on that in the future.

“Come here. You’re going to kneel in front of me.” Bucky gestured to the pillow settled between his legs, parallel to the table’s edge.

Steve complied with the order wordlessly, sinking down heavily onto the pillow. His shoulders sagged a bit as he shifted his weight, getting into position. Bucky hadn’t specified, but Steve brought his hands behind his back in a lazy parade rest.

Steve looked up curiously as Bucky fussed over him for a bit, making sure he was comfortable. He grew more and more pliant, letting himself be manhandled as Bucky shifted him around.

Bucky was still not used to Steve being so quiet, but he also couldn’t help but love it. He knew he could reduce Steve to begging— he knew those tricks— but that wasn’t the goal tonight.

Tonight was all about relaxing.

“Comfortable?” Bucky asked, once he was more or less satisfied. He pulled Steve’s arms down so that they could rest in front naturally, and didn’t dissuade him when Steve’s fingers brushed against the hem of Bucky’s sweatpants, only to twist and catch them in a light grip. Bucky also pulled Steve in a bit more, until he was bracketed between his thighs.

Steve hummed, “Mmhm,” and pressed his cheek against Bucky’s hand when he reached out. Bucky could feel the slight stubble that told him it had been a long day.

“Good. Just relax, okay? I’ve got you.” Steve didn’t respond, but that was okay.

Bucky grabbed a piece of sandwich— basic ham and cheese— and fed it to Steve, murmuring, “Open.”

Steve took the food carefully and chewed it, letting his eyes slip closed as he savored the flavor. He swallowed it and then remained where he was, patiently waiting for whatever Bucky’s next decision would be.

Bucky was hit all of a sudden by how much he truly loved him.

Shaking himself slightly, Bucky grabbed the next piece, warning him, “Here’s another.”

Again, Steve took the piece and chewed it. Bucky took the opportunity to eat his own bite. Steve finished before him, but again, he waited like he had nowhere else to be.

And he really didn’t.

“Water.” Bucky got out, ignoring how his own throat was suddenly dry. Steve didn’t seem to notice, waiting until Bucky brought the glass to his lips. Bucky thought it was going to be awkward— figuring out the angle, or trying not to spill any— but it was weirdly simple to tip the glass slightly so that Steve could take a couple of sips.

The thought flashed through Bucky’s mind that Steve might keep on drinking for as long as Bucky tipped the water into his mouth.

Bucky took the water away, then.

Taking his own sip, Bucky resolutely ignored the temptation of exploring that certain little power fantasy, realizing that he was perfectly happy with what he had at the moment.

As he fed Steve the next bite, he noticed how Steve was growing heavier and heavier, leaning more against Bucky and letting his tension slip away. His eyes were still closed, which showed just how exhausted he was, and he was very quiet, which was on a par with his behavior in the rest of their scenes. Steve looked like he was feeling peaceful, and Bucky loved that he could get him there.

When Steve swallowed, Bucky murmured, “C’mere,” and guided Steve forward until his cheek rested lightly on Bucky’s thigh. He was turned slightly on his side— still able to eat— and looking so sweet it made a lump form in Bucky’s throat.

They ate dinner like that, Bucky alternating between feeding Steve and taking bites for himself. He also varied the timing between bites, making Steve wait longer for some, and breaking it up with drinks of water. The plate Bucky had prepared was slowly dwindling.

Steve didn’t seem to mind, just going with the flow as Bucky took the lead. His eyes fluttered occasionally, almost like he wanted to check and see where he was, but he lost the battle and kept them closed, trust and exhaustion taking over.

There was something else there too, Bucky noticed. Steve was definitely gone, settled in that mental headspace that he had found since they started this thing, but it was now thrown into stark contrast. Each time it looked a little different, because of the route they took to get there, but the end result was always the same.

Bucky was fascinated.

He still didn’t understand it at all from Steve’s perspective, didn’t get the appeal— and didn’t think he ever would— but he didn’t care.

They fit together.

They _always_ fit, and he appreciated it so much.

Instead of feeding him the next bite, Bucky settled his hand on the back of Steve’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair, and then gently pulled him back. “Stevie. Hey, there.”

Steve’s eyelids fluttered, heavy, but Bucky was implacable, slowly coaxing Steve back to awareness. “Steve, look at me— there you go— c’mon.” He wanted to pull him from the depths of the headspace Steve was living in, but not bring him back all the way. Just enough to answer a couple of questions.

“That’s it. Focus on me, baby.” Steve finally trained his eyes on Bucky, and they were completely lost and blown, full of trust and adoration. Bucky could tell he was hazy and not completely there, but that was okay.

“How are you feeling?” They’d talked about it a little before, after their scenes when Steve was in his right mind, but Bucky wanted to hear it now. He wanted a little more insight into this Steve.

It was probably a little selfish of Bucky to make this so hard on Steve, but he knew Steve could do it. Steve’s throat worked as he tried to speak, but clearly not finding the words. “It’s okay, take your time.” Bucky reassured him, reaching metal fingers to caress Steve’s face.

“I… I’m…” Steve’s answer was stilted and choppy, his mind obviously torn between coherence and relaxation as he tried to put it into words for Bucky. “It’s good? It feels…”

Bucky waited patiently, letting Steve find his way. “I can’t…move.”

“Yeah?” Bucky tightened his grip slightly, and Steve closed his eyes briefly at the sensation. Bucky didn’t push him to open them again because Steve kept talking.

“It…there’s you.” Steve opened his eyes and looked right at Bucky, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a dopey smile. “It’s all…you. Whatever…you…”

The conversation was clearly taking its toll on Steve, and Bucky didn’t want to push him too hard. Especially not when he got the answer he was looking for— Steve’s helpless _want_ was quiet and solidly present. Even this far gone, he still only wanted inasmuch as Bucky would give him.

“You…” Steve tried again, clearly still struggling, and Bucky shushed him gently.

“Easy, you’re okay. That’s all I wanted, Stevie. You did good.” He couldn’t help the warmth that colored his voice— not in the face of that implacable yearning.

Steve opened his eyes and the naked hope that filled his expression was almost unbearable.

“Yeah?”

Bucky softened his grip and pushed Steve’s head back down to pillow against Bucky’s thigh. “Yeah, you’re so good for me.” He let Steve sink back down into that feeling, and the change was palpable.

Steve’s breathing evened out again, his muscles loosening until Bucky was the only thing holding him up. His eyes were half-lidded, not quite settled all the way, but they weren’t in any rush. Bucky took the time to pet him for a while, carding his fingers through his hair, and carefully massaging tired muscles as he let Steve completely relax.

After a little while, Bucky grabbed one of the chocolate pastries he had set out earlier, taking a bite himself so that the piece would be more manageable for Steve.

Swallowing, Bucky told him, “Open.”

Steve moaned in happy surprise when the pastry touched his tongue, and Bucky was immediately grateful that he had taken the time to buy the desserts.

“You’re so good for me, you deserve a treat, yeah?” He didn’t expect a response, and he didn’t get one, but he was satisfied when Steve was clearly just as happy to receive a strawberry-filled pastry as well.

They got through a few more bites like that before Bucky had to slow down— he could see it was costing Steve more and more effort to chew and swallow. On the tail end of one such struggle, Bucky wiped his hands off and resumed petting Steve’s hair, this time scratching a little bit, which only made Steve sigh happily.

His eyes finally closed all the way.

Bucky was so fucking proud of them.

Of Steve, for doing what he was told, and doing it well.

Of Steve, for trusting him enough to let it happen.

Of himself, for not fucking this up entirely.

Of himself, for taking the trust and creating something beautiful with it.

Of them— together— finding peace.

Bucky allowed them both to rest for a while before realizing that if he waited any longer, Steve might actually fall asleep.

“Hey, sweetie.” Bucky spoke quietly but still kept an edge of authority in his tone. “I need you to get up now. Up.”

Steve was not graceful in the least, clearly tired— nearly asleep— but he followed through easily enough. He stumbled his way to his feet, held upright only because of Bucky supporting him.

It took a few minutes, but Bucky guided Steve to his bedroom, helping him get under the covers. He briefly thought about heading back to his own room for the night, but then he saw Steve’s eyes were trained on him, half-open and fighting to stay conscious.

It tugged at Bucky’s heart that Steve clearly wanted him close, so he got in next to him, bringing Steve into a loose hug. Steve only sighed happily, eyes closing again when Bucky rubbed at the faint crease between Steve’s eyebrows.

“I’m here now. Sleep.” Buck ordered.

Seeming like that was all he needed, Steve closed his eyes and slipped into sleep.

His rhythmic breathing was what finally soothed Bucky to sleep as well.

*

Getting their packages the next morning was better than all of their birthdays combined. If they’d stopped to think, they might have been a little embarrassed at how quickly they tore into the packaging. As it was, they pulled out item after item, messing around with the vibrators and toys.

They definitely forgot what some of them were supposed to be for, and deep blushes colored their faces when they found the toys that they both knew _exactly_ what they were used for.

“‘Luxury Silicone Anal String,’ well that’s pretty obvious, I think.” Steve said, looking down at the receipt and checking it off. They kept having to double-check the names of some of the items, saying them out loud and guessing at what their functions were.

“What’s this one, again?” Bucky asked, holding up a sleek, black, dome-looking contraption. Steve glanced up, scrunching his forehead slightly when he didn’t immediately recognize it. He looked at the list, scanning for the possible names.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, “That’s the heat vibration thing for men.”

Bucky stared at the item in his hand. “How the fuck are we supposed to use it?” He couldn’t immediately identify any obvious ways it would work.

“It says here that you—” Steve got caught off by his phone beeping alarmingly. “Ugh.” Steve groaned when he saw the caller ID.

He gave Bucky a look of mild despair as he answered the phone, “Rogers, here.”

Bucky watched as Steve’s face got a pinched look— he was clearly not happy with what he was hearing. It was safe to assume that their unwrapping was about to get cut short, and Bucky felt a pang of disappointment. He set the toy down along with its packaging.

Steve hummed some affirmations, nodding along for a few moments before ending the call with: “I’ll be there.”

He stared at his silent phone for a moment, unhappy.

“Gotta go?” Bucky asked gently, reaching to pull the phone out of Steve’s hand, and tugging him closer at the same time.

Steve resisted for a second before he let himself sink into Bucky’s embrace.

“I don’t wanna go.” Steve mumbled petulantly into Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky chuckled at the whining tone, patting his back. “But it’s the Chinese-American Powered Liaison meeting. They’ve brought it forward to tomorrow because of some holiday, or something.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement.

“Can’t Stark go?” He asked.

“He is,” Steve’s voice went up in pitch to a whine, and Bucky refused to laugh at his childish behavior. “but they insisted we both attend. Which is bullshit and unnecessary. It’ll only look bad if I _don’t_ go.”

Bucky knew full well that the meeting was absolutely necessary to strengthen relations between the countries, and Steve’s presence there would be a big help, especially together with Stark. But he also knew how much Steve wanted to stay home and enjoy their new activities together.

“That’s a bummer.” Steve hummed wordlessly in agreement, shoving his face deeper into Bucky’s shoulder. “But you gotta go.”

Steve groaned, and this time, Bucky couldn’t suppress a chuckle. He really was going to miss Steve, especially since it was going to be for several days, but he got it.

“Hey,” Bucky began, hands on either side of Steve’s shoulders so he could push him back a little. Steve went with it, definitely pouting as he stared at Bucky. “Maybe this is a good thing. I mean, I’m going to need some time to come up with ideas for what we can do with these anyway.” Bucky pointedly looks around at the chaotic mess of sex toys and activities they had spread out all over the floor. He was stretching the truth— he already had plenty of plans— but it was true that he needed to figure out what some of the things were and how to use them. He had just assumed he’d have Steve here to help, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Instead, Bucky winked at Steve for dramatic effect, and it must have worked, because Steve finally offered up a small smile.

“Yeah, I guess.” He humored Bucky, dropping his head down, defeated.

“C’mere.” Bucky pulled him in to kiss him, and Steve perked up at that, immediately returning the favor.

Steve made a soft, sad sound when Bucky eventually pulled away, telling him, “Go get ready.”

Grumbling, Steve stood. He was just leaving the room when Bucky called out, “You better be ready when you next walk through that door, because I’m going to have to make up for some lost time.”

Steve’s answer was a choked whine, clearly struggling between wanting that _now,_ and anticipating what would come later.

*

Bucky spent an ungodly number of hours on YouTube over the next few days, watching tutorial videos, and watching porn.

_So much porn._

Not all of it was amazing, but he did have to stop and jerk off every other hour or so— simply because he kept getting so excited about what he could do with Steve when he came back.

He learned a lot.

The instructions in the boxes were helpful up to a point, but he definitely learned the most by typing in the name of the toys into a search engine and finding several ways to use them.

He found out what, _exactly,_ a prostate massager does, and had to stop himself from continuing to watch the videos because he only had so long of a refractory period.

He learned— probably more than he strictly needed to— about the various dimensions of gags: noting the lengths and widths that varied from comfortable mouthpieces, to those that caused an invading choking sensation. He was very curious to see which of the ones they bought would affect Steve the most.

He finally figured out the real-life applications of the heat vibrator, and _that_ had been an interesting night.

He also learned that there were _a lot_ of opinions on the internet about certain toys and materials, that there were certain stores to avoid, and certain manufacturers to buy from instead. Quality, Bucky discovered, was a very serious business, and he couldn’t simply go for the cheap and flashy-looking items without prior research.

The underlying impression that Bucky got after doing all the research, was that a person could be _very_ versatile with the right tools and incentives.

The one that interested him the most— when he finally got around to looking it up— was the intricacy and precision of rope work and Shibari.

There had been a couple meters-worth of cotton-blend rope that came with one of the kits they bought, and he hadn’t paid much attention to it at first. If anything, he had actually shied away from it, not particularly wanting to think about all the times he had chafed and rubbed himself raw when restrained in the early days of his stay with HYRDA.

He may not remember much from back then, but he definitely had the sense-memories of his bloodied wrists, and lashes across his chest from where he had struggled.

Needless to say, he had barely given it a thought when he tossed the bundle aside, not entertaining for one moment that he would want to inflict any of that on Steve.

And then he had stumbled across Shibari, and he realized that there was so much more to it than just tying someone to a chair.

It was… _beautiful_.

That was the only word Bucky could come up with to describe it as he tripped down the rabbit hole and found pictures, videos, tutorials and demonstrations of all the things a person could conceivably do with just a little bit of rope.

There were different types of ties— from beautifully artistic, useless and fun, to functional— and the entire spectrum in between. He was learning that there was so much more involved, figuring out that different types of rope produced different types of ties, or impressions, or sensations.

More than just the material itself, Bucky found that he was absolutely entranced with the whole process.

It was so intimate and controlling, but with a give and take that he didn’t see from other toys or tools.

He quickly figured out that cotton was not a great rope material. He didn’t feel bad in the slightest when he found an esteemed rope maker in the city, and ordered a few bundles from her instead.

Bucky found that he was simply having fun learning the ropes. Literally.

Steve had gotten him a giant teddy bear for his first Christmas home. It was an absolutely ridiculous thing— colored like Captain America— and he was pretty sure Stark had goaded Steve into getting it, but despite all that, he loved the stupid thing. It was a real reminder that they were both here, in the future, where he was comfortable and could own a literal, person-sized bear, all to himself.

It was a weird and amazing luxury that never failed to put a smile on his face.

And he was currently using it as target practice.

Granted, it was rope instead of bullets, but still. He didn’t think Steve could have ever foreseen these particular techniques being used on the helpless plushie; yet here he was. There were only so many ties he could try out on himself.

He grinned and felt unabashedly proud of each new tie he tried, alternating between actively trying to follow a pattern, and just trying things out by himself.

No matter how much he practiced, though— and oh, did he _practice_ — he would need to work with Steve to really get the feel for it.

When Steve called ahead to let him know he was on his way home, Bucky actually pumped his fist in the air. Even Steve’s annoyance at being a day later than he’d anticipated did nothing to sour Bucky’s mood, and by the time he heard the lock click at the front door, Bucky was practically vibrating out of his skin with excitement.

Bucky barely gave himself time to glance over Steve— noting that he looked alert, and not too tired from his trip— before dropping his voice to order, “Go wash up. Thoroughly. Then meet me in my room.”

Steve clearly cycled through joy at first seeing Bucky, to surprise— he was barely through the door before Bucky had started speaking — to happy compliance as he gave a quick nod and followed the instruction.

Bucky went directly to his room, and heard the shower running from down the hall. Smiling, Bucky began to lay out bundles of rope on the bed, glad that he received his custom rope two days prior and had given himself some time to familiarize himself with it. He had definitely noticed a difference in the quality and feel of the jute compared to the cotton. It felt good enough for him to be comfortable about letting any of his negative associations with rope fade away.

Honestly, he had barely thought about HYDRA the whole time he’d been fascinated with his new obsession; this was such a different situation, and the circumstances were nothing like what he’d been subjected to in the past.

Steve knocked on the door quietly, and Bucky turned to look at him. Steve was naked, a towel slung low around his hips, and his hair damp. He was looking around the room, his eyes cataloguing everything— his usual habit. Bucky doubted that either of them would ever be able to enter even a familiar room without scoping out everything in the place.

But when Steve’s eyes settled on the rope, his expression betrayed a flicker of surprise. He looked at Bucky for guidance, clearly needing to follow Bucky’s lead in this case.

“I found something exciting in our haul, and then kind of ordered a brand _new_ haul.” Bucky started, walking up to Steve and putting his mismatched hands on Steve’s stomach, feeling the muscles tighten and relax.

“Yeah?” Steve breathed, letting Bucky step into his space easily.

“Mmhmm.” Bucky agreed. “And I’ve been practicing, but now I need some feedback.” He let his fingers trail down to the edge of the towel, tugging softly until the towel came loose and fell to pool around Steve’s feet.

Steve was half-hard already, his cock hanging a little heavily. Bucky let his metal fingers slide down through Steve’s soft blonde hair, teasing at his cock lightly before pulling his hand back.

He grinned when Steve let out a rough breath.

“I need to practice with my rope. Gotta know that my ties are good, and will hold on a real person. All you need to do is answer my questions if and when I have them. Think you can do that?”

He got an answer as a cut-off whine, but then Steve stopped himself to nod.

“Let me hear you, Stevie.” Bucky pushed, his flesh hand coming up to grab Steve by the jaw. He let his fingers dig in enough to make little indentations in the soft flesh.

“Yes, sir.” Steve replied immediately.

Bucky released him, saying, “Good. Get on the bed. And mind the rope.”

He stepped back and watched as Steve shuddered and slowly made his way to the bed. In his usual fashion, Steve knelt on the bed and crawled across it, being careful to not disturb the rope already there. Without any specific instructions on positioning, Steve simply stopped when he was kneeling in the very center of the bed.

Bucky almost wanted to take a picture; Steve sitting on his heels, surrounded by colorful rope. It was decadent.

Moving some of the rope out of the way, Bucky beckoned Steve to him, and began to gently manhandle him into the positions he wanted, letting him sit comfortably at first and facing away from Bucky.

The rope was mesmerizing as Bucky slid it over Steve’s skin, creating a wake of goosebumps every now and then. He was careful to go slow, not wanting to burn Steve, and then he was creating ties.

“How’s that feel? Too tight?” He murmured as he cinched a loop around Steve’s arm to match the other one. It was a fairly basic chest harness, with Steve’s hands tied behind his back.

Steve’s breath hitched with the move, and then he let out an affirming moan.

“Answer me, Steve.” Bucky paused, realizing that they’d both fallen into the lull of the rope as it moved back and forth.

“It’s…it’s good. Feels good, sir.” Steve managed after a moment. He shifted, his muscles bunching and throwing the restraints into stark contrast as his skin turned pale with tension, but then he relaxed again, settled.

“Good. Move your fingers for me, please.” Steve did, and then Bucky continued, trying to replicate the pattern he had learned the other day. When he was satisfied with the chest harness, he guided Steve to turn towards him, pushing him onto his ass so that he was sitting on the bed, his legs splayed out in front of him.

Bucky crawled up the bed to get into Steve’s space, and maneuvered Steve’s leg to bend inwards. Choosing a blue rope, he made his single column tie on Steve’s ankle and then began to wrap it around his thigh, pulling it in closely, and starting his futomomo.

“Not too loose?” Bucky asked after checking to make sure there was enough slack to not cut off the circulation, but not enough to let him slip out.

“N-no.” Steve was breathing evenly— if a bit heavily— and Bucky could tell he was starting to drift; he was sinking down into that place he went when they did things like this, even if it was different this time.

By the time he finished tying off Steve’s leg, Steve’s eyes were half-lidded, and his cock was filled out completely. Bucky noticed— of course he did— but he didn’t have the desire to rile Steve up just yet.

Clearly his intentions didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things, because Steve always responded to Bucky touching him, and he had to touch him all over for this.

Bucky picked up a red rope and set out to replicate his tie on the other leg, noting all the places he should tighten up, or directions he should go instead. It was definitely different when tying flesh rather than plushie, and he could tell his technique was pretty shit, as he had suspected it would be. But it was all a learning curve, and one Bucky was more than happy to climb.

Going through the motions on the other leg, Bucky kept checking in with Steve, watching his facial expressions, and asking him to wiggle his fingers and toes. He asked him a question here and there, but after a particularly long pause in which Steve clearly struggled to find the right words, Bucky let him slip into silence, knowing he was content to let Bucky steer for a bit. It meant that Bucky had to be extra cautious, and he double-checked things more often to make sure he wasn’t pinching anything or cutting off circulation. Steve still answered his easy questions with a shake or a nod, so Bucky knew he’d get an honest answer if anything stopped feeling good.

Bucky had Steve change positions occasionally, both to give a rest and to get him moving, at the very least shifting his weight. But then Bucky finished up with his leg, and put him into a more difficult position, pushing him down on his front and tucking his bound legs up behind him. Grabbing a green rope, he began to connect the rope around Steve’s legs with the chest harness, putting him into a hogtie.

Steve’s breathing picked up at the change. The strain and challenge of it was making him struggle to stay in position, and Bucky wondered how long it would take Steve to relax and let go again, to let the rope do the work and just surrender to it.

It took less time than Bucky had guessed, and Steve whined as he realized his situation.

“There you are. Just let me take care of you, I got you.” He tied off his last knot, and relaxed for a moment, taking in how good Steve looked.

Steve was breathing steadily, and looked almost gentle in the rope that held him together. His limbs were stretched and bent to Bucky’s will, held fast with the colored ropes that complimented each other. Even Steve’s pale skin stood out against the different colors, and Bucky took his time to explore him all over, touching the smooth skin that gave way to strong rope. He checked the ties as he went, noting how Steve’s skin was flushing underneath.

Bucky also checked Steve’s cock, and saw it was leaking against the sheets where it lay neglected between his legs. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing that they’d most likely be playing with the ropes again in the near future.

Deciding that Steve deserved a bit of a reward for being so good and pliant for Bucky, he began to undo the hogtie. He left Steve’s legs alone for the moment and undid the chest harness, watching as the rope left beautiful red marks on Steve’s skin. He left the single-tie column on Steve’s wrists, pushing Steve over onto his back. It took a minute to get his legs situated, and then he was lying back with his legs forcibly spread out as he tried to relax.

Pulling the rope still tied around Steve’s wrist, he took the end and tied it loosely to one of his thighs, pulling it through to connect to the other thigh, and finishing it up by tying the rest of the rope around Steve’s wrists again. It looked like a triangle that pulled his hands right over Steve’s cock.

“There you go, babe. Why don’t you get yourself off?” He may have framed it like a question, but it was anything but and Steve knew it too, judging by how quickly he reddened, embarrassed. He refused to meet Bucky’s gaze, which Bucky just found adorable.

“I know you want to, Stevie. Show me how you do it.” Bucky knew damn well how Steve jerked off; fractured memories from before and during the war overlapping with whenever he spied on Steve when he knew he shouldn’t.

Steve’s frantic moan when he finally got his hands around his cock went straight to Bucky’s belly, though he still refused to acknowledge his own hard-on. It was awkward, Steve’s grip on himself, because of the angle with which he was tied together, but Steve made it work. He could always make it work.

Just as Steve started up a good rhythm, Bucky said, “Hold on, slow down.”

Steve whimpered in frustration but did as he was told. As he teased himself, Bucky noticed the way Steve’s thighs began to tremble; it was a combination of the strain of the unnatural position, and Steve’s own arousal that told Bucky Steve wasn’t going to last too much longer.

“Slower, Steve.” Bucky rasped out, reaching out his hands to steady the quivering thighs. If he was also holding Steve down, then that just happened to be a coincidence.

Steve’s answering whine called him out on it, but Bucky didn’t care.

“There you go, just stroke it carefully. Yeah, you got it. Just under the head there, yeah.” Each direction just served to rile Steve up more and more, little pants escaping as he tried to hold on.

“You almost there, Stevie?” Bucky asked, his thumbs digging into the soft spot where Steve’s thighs met his hips. Steve groaned and tried to buck up, but couldn’t when Bucky reinforced his hold.

“You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? Come. Come for me, Stevie.”

Steve cried out, his rhythm faltering as he tried to speed up to chase his orgasm. White ropes of come spurted out, covering his hands and belly, and Bucky spared a thought to remind himself later to figure out how to clean ropes.

Steve twitched and shuddered, his cock jerking in his hands until he was finally spent. He couldn’t help sinking into the bed, exhausted and sated. His legs were still trembling though, so Bucky began to undo the ties, gently stretching out each leg as the rope loosened. The rope marks were even more beautiful here — deep impressions that would last for a while.

Bucky felt a pang of worry when Steve couldn’t hide his wince as he stretched his legs, but his expression evened out immediately after, and Bucky knew it wasn’t that bad. After tossing the rope aside for later, he turned his attention to massaging Steve’s legs, digging his thumbs in and hearing Steve hum contentedly.

“Did you like that?” Bucky asked after a few minutes of silence. Steve’s wrists were still bound, and he had lifted them above his head to stretch, leaving them there comfortably.

Steve hummed again, following it with, “Yeah. That was in our stuff?”

“Yeah, a version of it. Did some research and got better material. Definitely need more practice though; I bullshitted my way through a bit of it back there.”

Steve snickered, and Bucky could hear the unsaid retort about Bucky bullshitting his way through life in general.

“Guess you’ll just have to practice then.” Steve said simply, and Bucky couldn’t help levering himself up and over to kiss Steve, crashing his mouth against his in a dominating kiss.

Pulling back, Bucky found himself saying, “I love you. You know that, right?”

Steve smiled gently, bringing his hands down to catch Bucky’s neck between his arms and pull him in for another kiss. “I love you too, punk.”

Bucky grinned against Steve’s lips, the declaration tasting just as sweet in this century as it did the in the last.

They made out lazily for a while before Steve nipped at his bottom lip at the same time that he shifted a thigh to slip between Bucky’s legs — pressing insistently against Bucky’s cock. It was still mostly hard, but the kissing was helping it come to attention.

“What about you, sir?” Steve asked cheekily. Bucky kissed him again, and then ducked out of Steve’s hold. He grasped the trailing rope and pulled, and Steve got the memo and allowed himself to sit up.

“I hope your memory is still good, because you’re going to repeat everything you just did to yourself on me.”

Steve grinned and said emphatically, “Yes, _sir_.”

*

“Желаниe.”

Bucky flinched, gritting his teeth. He always hated this part of the therapy, knowing he would lose time again and again as he tried to get his traitorous mind to fucking _not comply_.

So far, it was always a losing battle. He could feel the pull that led to the Winter Soldier, and he couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.

“Ржавый.” Launa intoned.

“Fuck.” Bucky gasped, clenching his fists so tightly he could feel his nails digging crescents into his palms.

At least it wasn’t as bad as usual. He was able to hold in his mind something good waiting for him at home— the promise of licking Nutella from Steve’s body if he could power through this session. Steve had called Bucky to him before he left, and whispered his plans into Bucky’s ear, low and hot. Bucky in turn had suggested maybe trying it out with a cock ring or other new toy. The look in Steve’s eyes told him he was in for a fun scene later that day.

Having that goal made him able to bear it just a little bit easier.

“Семнадцать.”

Granted, it still sucked.

He could feel himself slipping as he heard each word, feeling the _need_ , the _drive_ to listen and comply, and Bucky hated it. Playing with Steve over the last few weeks— getting the chance to order him around and get his orders followed— had made Bucky foolishly think that maybe— _maybe—_ he could fight off his programming somehow.

But it wasn’t the break he thought it would be for this.

“Рассвет.”

He almost screamed.

He was allowed to scream. Launa told him that he could express himself however he needed, and agreed that screaming was a great way to relieve stress sometimes, but Bucky just couldn’t get the sounds unstuck from his throat.

“Печь.”

Bucky was fucking furious. More than upset, more than betrayed, he was just so fucking _done._ The frustration of it all was threatening to suffocate him, and he wanted to hit something.

“Девять.”

The meanings behind each word prickled at the back of his mind, like always. The gateway to being molded into a mindless weapon, ripping Bucky apart until he was nothing.

Nothing left. Nothing but a void.

Blank.

Empty.

Launa kept going. “Доброкачественные.”

Bucky curled his hands into the rug she kept in her office. It was easy to grip it, his knuckles white.

When had he fallen to his knees?

“Возвращение домой.”

His head was pounding— a migraine that threatened to split him cleanly in two.

Everything was threatening to destroy him. The very purpose of the words was to obliterate him.

He shook under the weight of the approaching nothingness.

“Один.”

There was no _him._ He was a casing, a shell.

He was so angry that a bunch of stupid words could erase him so completely.

God, there was one more, please just this time let him—

“Грузовой вагон.”

He fell still, only his metal arm calibrating making a sound. Even his own breathing was measured and steady.

Everything else had fallen away.

Everything except the orders to come.

He was ready to comply, and he said so.

He followed every order perfectly. Of course he did. He always would.

When he snapped out of it, later— and god, he could never keep track of time when he was under, and it was so infuriating— the first thing he saw was Launa’s face.

There was a pinched look at her eyebrows, and she had a curious expression, as if trying to puzzle Bucky out.

Bucky faltered in his anger enough to croak out, “What’s wrong?”

Launa kept looking at him, her expression almost edging on fascination with a hint of pride, and Bucky couldn’t figure it out. “What happened?” He asked.

Finally, she shook her head and put on her glasses, asking, “How did it feel, that time?”

It was such a cliché and Bucky couldn’t help but snapping, “I’m pissed as fuck, what do you think I feel like?”

Launa’s response was to simply raise an eyebrow, which only served to make Bucky fume even more.

“This is bullshit.” He let himself fall onto her couch, refusing to appreciate how comfortable it was. “I’m sick and tired of following every stupid order like jumping on the fucking table like a child. This isn’t working, and I’m fucking _tired_.”

Launa let him rant, waiting a beat when he finished to make sure Bucky was done before calmly asking him, “Other than today’s session, could you please tell me the last time you remembered an exact order?”

Bucky froze.

“Actually,” Launa continued, “Can you tell me the last time you remembered _anything_ from when you were under the influence of the trigger words?”

He could only stare at her as comprehension started creeping in. Launa fell silent, offering Bucky a small, knowing smile, and the space he needed to sort through the new information.

Because it _was_ new.

Before, he could never immediately remember what happened after he was triggered. It was only ever vague flashes of crippled memories, sensations and warped voices he could never fully recall. He only ever found out about what he did after the fact if someone told him outright, and there usually weren’t very many witnesses to enlighten him.

Something in his face must have betrayed his realization  because she then asked him, “When was the last time you felt angry about being triggered?”

Bucky opened his mouth to tell her that _every fucking time_ , when she amended, “Throughout the process to the end, I mean.”

Like chips falling into place, Bucky suddenly understood what she meant. Yes, he had been triggered, and yes, he’d been angry and frustrated, but unlike all the other times they had done this, he had been fully aware the entire time that it was happening. A part of him had somehow, _miraculously_ , been retained. He had been hollowed out, but present enough to know it, and to _feel_ something about it.

His feelings had not entirely disappeared.

_He_ hadn’t entirely disappeared.

Launa grinned. “Mr. Barnes, I believe I would like to call this ‘progress,’ wouldn’t you agree?”

Bucky agreed very much indeed.

Steve would be proud.

*

They were like goddamn moths to a flame, if moths were sex-driven super soldiers with insatiable appetites and if flames were a plethora of tools specifically created for their hedonistic pleasure.

Yeah, they were a bit obsessed. And they couldn’t bring themselves to care, not when they took it upon themselves to rightfully claim a bit of the happiness they deserved for once.

They spent the next day going through their toys again, but this time with Bucky explaining what the purpose of everything was to a very interested and attentive Steve.

“Wow. You really did your research.” Steve stated, running his fingers over the prostate massager that Bucky had thrust into his hands. Bucky knew that Steve was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept, and he wondered if he should show him a video or two to demonstrate it in action.

In actuality, Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if Steve even knew what the prostate _was_. Bucky sure hadn’t known before all of this. It wasn’t as if sex education had been a priority when they were growing up, so it was likely Steve had continued to miss that lesson in the twenty-first century.

“I did. Do you want to see what I found, or do you want me to just show you?” Bucky couldn’t help winking at Steve, knowing what his answer was going to be.

“I work better with a hands-on demonstration, so you better show me Buck.” Steve replied, faking a serious tone. Bucky swatted at him playfully, making Steve break out into laughter.

“Get out of those clothes and into my bed, Rogers.”

“Yessir.” Steve answered, still grinning in mirth. He gave the toy back to Bucky.  

He was a little more organized with how he took off his clothes and folded them, leaving them to one side. Bucky almost didn’t tease him.

Almost.

“Those better be crisp lines, or else I might have to reprimand you as well.” Bucky commented, walking around the bed to grab the lubricant from his bedside drawer. He stripped off his shirt and jeans but left his boxer shorts on, tossing the clothes haphazardly in the direction of the closet, feeling smug about the hypocrisy.

The answering sass was obvious in Steve’s “Of course, sir.”

“Quit wasting time and get your ass over here.” Bucky settled himself at the foot of the bed, tucking a leg underneath him to get comfortable. The next moment, the bed dipped under Steve’s weight as he sat in front of Bucky.

“Hey there.” Bucky looked over Steve’s naked body, always appreciative. Hooking his metal hand around Steve’s neck, he pulled him into a kiss before ordering, “Lay back, face up. Grip the slats and don’t let go until you’re told.”

Steve ducked in for one more kiss before complying, and Bucky couldn’t even fault him for it. As Steve settled, stretching his arms up above his head to grab at the reinforced metal of Bucky’s bed frame, Bucky tapped here and there to make Steve move where he wanted. He had him spread his legs and then bend his knees until he was in the correct position.

“You look delicious like this.” Bucky breathed, just taking a moment to watch. Steve truly did look like a wet dream personified— spread out and willing for Bucky.

“It’s all for you, sir.” Steve breathed, and Bucky had to blink hard. He pointedly ignored the way his cock gave an enthusiastic twitch in response.

Bucky gently squeezed Steve’s knee, conveying his own gratitude with the gesture.

“You ready for me?” His voice was a little rough, but he didn’t care.

Steve just nodded, so Bucky settled in between his legs and uncapped the bottle.

As he squeezed out a dollop into his palm, he remarked, “You know, lube these days is way better than the jelly we used to use. You remember?”

Steve nodded cautiously, wide-eyed, and Bucky could see surprise coloring his expression. He always made that face whenever Bucky recalled a memory from before the train.

“It’s just so…” Bucky coated his flesh fingers and then brought them down to circle Steve’s rim. “Slippery.” He finished, pushing in two fingers and making Steve groan.

“ _Definitely_ so much better in this day and age. Wouldn’t you agree, Stevie?”

Bucky grinned, seeing that Steve was already having a hard time following the conversation, especially when Bucky slipped another finger inside to join the others, curling and scissoring them. It was amazing how easily Steve opened up for him, and he realized Steve must have cleaned himself out thoroughly in the shower beforehand.

He then wondered how often Steve cleaned himself like this, just on the off chance Bucky decided to go further.

His cock was suddenly very interested in that line of thought.

“You’re taking these so well for me, aren’t you?” Bucky was entranced by how Steve’s hole seemed to pull his fingers in, and soon enough he was able to push in a fourth slowly, but implacably— through that tight ring. The muscle gave, and then Steve had a hard time staying still, trying to push back onto Bucky’s fingers.

“Now, now. Let me.” Bucky set the bottle aside and used his free hand to grab Steve’s right hip, holding him down as a reminder. Steve gasped, and Bucky wondered if it was because he was feeling the cold of the metal on his warm skin, or because of the shifting of the metal plates when they locked in place, not allowing him to move an inch.

Bucky’s own sharp intake of air was because he suddenly realized how much he liked the finger-shaped marks his hand was leaving on Steve’s skin. He knew they wouldn’t last, but it was still very nice to look at.

Reminders for later, like the rope marks, to show that this happened.

Slowly, Bucky opened him up, pushing in and pulling out, twisting and spreading his fingers, until Steve was finally relaxed enough.

Grabbing the prostate massager from where he’d set it behind him, Bucky covered it with more lube before he intoned, “This is going to be fun.”

Curious, Steve lifted his head slightly, trying to see what Bucky was doing, before pillowing his face against his upraised bicep. His grip on the slats still held firm.

Bucky pressed the tip of the massager against Steve’s rim, ordering, “Bear down for me.” He pushed it in, waiting for Steve in increments as he tensed and relaxed in turns. It was slow-going, which was perfectly fine for Bucky. He didn’t want to hurt Steve— not here, not ever.

He twisted the massager gently as he pushed, and the lube was so slick that Steve didn’t have a choice but to relax and let it finally slip completely inside, making him groan at the invasion. It had to be heavy and incessant, such a large toy filling him up. Bucky relaxed his grip on Steve’s hip enough to stroke him comfortingly.

“How does that feel?” Bucky asked, watching the flared base of the massager settle snugly against Steve’s ass cheeks.

Steve whimpered, his eyes squeezed closed, and Bucky knew the toy was pressing up against his prostate in a way he’d never be able to ignore. “Stevie…” Bucky pushed, tapping him firmly on the thighs.

Breathing out harshly, Steve still refused to look at Bucky, but he finally mumbled out, “It’s… it feels—good. I— It’s so full…Please…”

Bucky moved his hands to either side of Steve’s thighs and resumed his gentle stroking— trying to get Steve to settle down.

Bucky realized after a few moments it was futile, when Steve couldn’t help shifting and twisting, gasping whenever the massager moved just right inside him.

“Alright. Let’s get this started, then, shall we?” Bucky squeezed Steve’s thighs lightly and then moved himself to the side, mainly as a precaution based on some of the porn videos he’d seen.

Steve turned his head and opened his eyes to focus blearily on Bucky.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Just getting comfortable to watch.” Steve made a confused noise in his throat at that, and then Bucky reached over to the bedside table where he had previously set the remote. “By the way,” Bucky began, his thumb over the ‘ON’ button, “Under no circumstances are you to touch your cock. Those hands don’t move from where they are. Understood?”

Steve’s sharp intake of breath preceded his shaky, “Yes, sir.”

The fact that he answered verbally when it was clearly becoming difficult for him to focus just made Bucky smile at Steve’s effort, and then he turned it on.

Steve started as the vibrations kicked in, clearly not expecting the sensation, and then he let out another groan, spreading his legs out even more. Bucky could see the way the massager moved— almost a back and forth motion, as if fucking him slightly.

It didn’t take long for Steve to get restless. A faint tremble began in his thighs, and he sporadically jerked them; he couldn’t decide what position he wanted to be in, and kept trying his best to turn from one side to another, despite still holding on to the slats— he did a wonderful job obeying that order.

A couple of minutes later, Bucky saw the moment that Steve realized the truth of his situation. His struggles were only increasing— now against himself— and Steve tilted his hips up and down, trying to get more friction and Bucky could see him almost— _almost—_ forget what he was supposed to do.

With a whimper, Steve let go of the slat enough to stretch his fingers and then immediately grabbed it again, determined to follow Bucky’s instructions.

“Good choice.” Bucky said, proud that Steve fought against his needs in order to please Bucky. He knew how hard it was, especially when he watched as Steve lost his mind. His poor cock began to drool like hell, spitting precome all over Steve’s stomach and making a mess of everything. Bucky was caught by surprise when out of nowhere, Steve kicked out with a leg and flopped it back on the bed. It looked almost involuntary, and Bucky was glad he’d decided to move out of the way earlier.

Steve moaned loudly, a pitiful sound that went straight to Bucky’s cock.

“You know,” Bucky began, reaching out a finger to swipe through the clear precome on Steve’s hip, “you’re more than welcome to come whenever you want.”

He didn’t expect Steve to take him up on that immediately, ropes of come spurting out and covering Bucky’s hand.

“Well hello there, Rogers.” Steve panted hard, hiding his facet in an arm. He’d dropped his legs, letting them butterfly out carelessly, and Bucky just grinned as he wiped his hand on the sheets. “That was pretty fun, wasn’t it?”

Steve’s eyes snapped open when the massager kept going.

“Bucky, I— Please… It’s still—” Steve lost his words in a whine. “Please, I— I can’t…” Bucky watched, entranced, as Steve begged—his voice wrecked.

“Oh, you can. And you _will_.” Bucky couldn’t begin to imagine how oversensitive Steve must have felt in that moment. The massager was merciless as it cycled through its programming. “Your orders haven’t changed, you know.”

Steve froze at that, visibly trying to calm himself. But unfortunately it was to no avail, and his thighs soon started quivering again.

“You can come as many times as you want, Steve. You’re allowed. You just can’t let go.”

Steve cried out, his whole body jerking upwards, and Bucky almost felt bad for a second, but then a quick look at Steve’s cock calmed him when he realized that Steve was perfectly fine— more than fine.

The second time Steve came, his whole body clenched tightly, and Steve yelled. His cock was continuously leaking at that point, not quite a heavy load, but still clearly an orgasm.

“There you go. Just let it out.” Bucky cooed, amused as Steve started begging again. His words were slurring into each other, and half of it didn’t even make sense, but it still endeared Bucky to him to hear him try. A fine sheen of sweat was beginning to bead all over Steve’s skin, throwing into sharp contrast the way his muscles bunched in his abs, chest, and thighs.

Steve’s whole body shuddered, and it was clear that his control was slipping— the massager kept chugging along, pulling involuntary reactions out of Steve with every pulse. His hips jerked continuously, making his cock slap against his stomach, which only served to make Bucky smirk.

It got to the point that Bucky knelt up and bent over to helpfully hold Steve down when his body tried to rebel.

“Easy there.” Steve whimpered, trying to buck up, but finding only Bucky’s implacable grip. “You’re doing so well.”

“Please, please— _please_ …” Steve’s begging was finally reduced to the one word.

The third one looked a little tough to get, so Bucky started to tease him, alternating between holding his hips down and stroking him, playing with his still-drooling cock.

“You know,” Bucky began, watching the way Steve’s abs fluttered with contractions, “I think we’re definitely getting our money’s worth with this one.” He reached down to lightly hold Steve’s cock— he was shuddering so hard that he was nearly fucking himself into Bucky’s fist.

Bucky gave up trying to wipe his hand dry.

“I’m curious. I want to see how long it takes before you run out of come.” With that comment, Steve’s whole body tensed hard as he curled up and came again, his orgasm rippling through him.

Flopping back onto the bed, Steve breathed out raggedly.

Bucky sat back down next to him and tightened his fist, really starting to stroke him.

Steve screamed, tearing up at the sensation, and Bucky could feel his own eyes blown wide at the sight.

Steve was crying from too much _pleasure._

Fuck, this was exactly what Bucky wanted.

And he wanted _more_.

Touching Steve everywhere, Bucky pointedly zeroed in on Steve’s erotic zones, riling him up on purpose. His fingers slipped through sweat occasionally, but Bucky kept going. Steve was continuously jerking and gasping, crying freely by the next orgasm.

His begging was absolutely incomprehensible.

The orgasm after that was barely a spurt, his cock twitching, and only half-hard. The massager still didn’t let up, and tears rolled down Steve’s temples. Bucky wondered if Steve’s muscles were going to start cramping soon, so he reached down to brush the tears away, tapping at Steve’s cheeks lightly to get his attention.

Steve’s eyes were blurry with tears and unfocussed as he blinked up towards Bucky.

“We’re going to try for one more, and then you’re all done, alright?”

Steve nodded absently, completely out of it, and somehow still delivered within a few minutes— his cock jerking hard.

Nothing came out that time, and Bucky grinned.

He grabbed the remote and turned the massager off. The relief was immediate as Steve sighed heavily and finally fell still against the mattress, nearly passed out. His chest heaved up and down along with his breaths, and all his muscles quivered with exertion.

Bucky wasted no time in freeing his cock from his boxers and stroking himself. He sighed at finally allowing himself his own pleasure after putting it on the back burner for their scene. It really didn’t take long to get him to the edge, and after making sure he was in position, Bucky came all over Steve’s chest and stomach. His come mixed in with Steve’s, adding to the wet mess already there, and the result was absolutely depraved.

Personally, Bucky thought it was a good look for Steve.

He slowed his strokes to gently milk out the last drops before tucking himself away. Mesmerized, he reached out his flesh hand to spread the come against Steve’s skin, smearing it and feeling the muscles jump underneath his fingers.

He played for a couple of minutes, trailing sticky fingers from one wet patch to another, watching as Steve couldn’t help the twitches that followed. Chuckling to himself, Bucky wiped his fingers on the sheets and sat back.

“You just take your time.” Bucky soothed, getting up and walking to the bathroom to wash his hands and grab a towel, wetting it under the faucet and wringing it out. “You did so well for me, baby.” He called out.

He walked back to the bed and began to wipe down Steve’s skin, cleaning sweat and come and tears methodically, watching Steve try to flinch away from the cool cloth. “I’m proud of you, Stevie. You did such a good job.” Bucky ended up rinsing the towel three times before he was satisfied. The sheets would have to be changed, but he was fine with Steve lying there a little longer.

Reaching up to where Steve was still holding onto the slats, Bucky coaxed, “C’mere, you can let go now.” He almost had to pry his fingers loose, but slowly, Steve released his hold.

Bucky kept up a litany of reassurances as he massaged Steve’s hands, making Steve moan quietly as Bucky worked the stiff fingers.

Steve’s breathing finally calmed down, and his eyes were half-lidded as he vaguely tracked Bucky’s movements. Bucky was impressed, given Steve was only half-conscious.

When both hands were done, Bucky laid them gently on Steve’s chest before scooting down. Pushing Steve’s legs apart, he settled between them and turned his attention towards the massager still nestled inside.

“This might feel a little weird, but just bear with me.” Bucky warned, grabbing hold of the flared base of the massager and twisting it slightly before tugging. Steve whimpered, a hand reaching down blindly, and Bucky caught it with his metal hand. He interlocked their fingers and gave him a little squeeze, saying, “I know, I know— almost.”

He kept tugging, watching as Steve’s rim slowly stretched open again. It was almost like his body wanted to keep the toy inside, which was fascinating.

Probably less so to Steve, if his whining was any indication.

“Little bit more.” Bucky said, and then the toy came free all at once.

“There. All done.” He tossed it onto the bedside table, knowing he’d have to get up soon to clean it. He’d have to also get Steve into the shower at some point, but he was still procrastinating on that one.

For now, he settled himself down next to Steve, pulling him close, and grinning at how easily Steve followed him.

“What did you think of the toy, then?” Bucky asked, trailing his fingers up and down Steve’s back.

Eyes still closed, Steve pulled his hand out from between them and let it drop limply against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky turned his head to watch as Steve barely managed a thumbs-up.

Bucky burst out laughing, and then Steve was grinning along with him, tucking his face into Bucky’s chest.

*

They were having the fucking _time of their lives_ trying out new things.

They found out that Steve loved vibrators—  that had been a fun night. He was hesitant at first, demanding that Bucky tell him what it was when he heard it buzz. After Bucky gave him some options of what they could do with it, Steve quickly became more enthusiastic, and ended up begging to come soon after.

Both of them found out that predicament bondage was actually really awesome. Steve loved the exertion he got from it—so much better than a couple of hours in the gym. He loved the stretch and pull of his muscles— and to Bucky’s surprise— the mild pain that came along with it. When Bucky asked him for details, Steve was adamant that it wasn’t _bad_ pain, and that he felt good, paradoxically. Bucky didn’t understand that himself, but he respected it, and made sure that Steve would tell him if it ever turned into a _bad_ pain.

Steve promised him he would.

Bucky found out that he really loved making Steve wait to orgasm. It was always such a rush to watch Steve try his best to follow difficult orders. It was a gift, more than anything, and Bucky wanted to kiss Steve all over for suggesting this whole experience in the first place. He felt more steady in his life now than he ever did before.

And of course, Bucky adored rope. In fact, he was getting pretty fucking good at it, and he wasn’t shy to admit it. His enquiries made him some online friends who were into rope— some made it, some did shows, others just really fucking _enjoyed rope_ — and Bucky picked up a lot of tips from them. He even met up with a few people from the city, and had some lessons, coming back home to Steve to show off what he learned that day.

He loved coming up with new ways to torment Steve, in the very best ways possible.

Because of their new… _extra curricular activities_ , they added some new features to their apartment to make things easier. They installed hooks in the ceilings and walls, and bought some special furniture that allowed Bucky to hold Steve virtually anywhere in their apartment.

For instance, right now he had Steve tied up in strappado in their living room.

Steve’s arms were pulled back and up, the rope cuffed around his wrists and looped through a hook in the ceiling. His legs were spread apart, attached with a bar at the ankles to keep him from trying to pull them together, and he had a nice steel anal hook that Bucky attached the end of to a collar he’d put on Steve earlier. He had shortened the slack so that Steve was forced to tip his head back if he wanted to avoid getting choked.

On top of that, Bucky used a shorter length of rope and tightly wrapped up Steve’s cock and balls, separating and stretching each until his groin was practically covered in rope. His balls were a nice shade of red that matched the visible tip of his wrapped cock.

Overall, Steve was in quite the precarious situation, and Bucky walked around him, admiring his predicament and the way it made his body work hard to avoid any unfortunate movements. Of course, some shifting was unavoidable and Steve couldn’t help but twitch as he desperately tried to balance and hold still so as to not aggravate his shoulders, his breathing, his ass, or his genitals.

They’d been at this for the past half hour— setting him up all nice and pretty— and Steve was already pretty far gone, panting like crazy. Bucky just _loved_ that he could get him to sweat and tire so easily.

“How are you doing?” Bucky asked, walking around him again. Steve shifted his balance a little bit, trying to keep his feet under him with his head still pulled back. He didn’t answer, so Bucky got in front of Steve and gripped the back of his neck— threading his fingers into the collar— and gently pulled him forward, making him look Bucky in the eyes.

Steve whimpered, going up on his toes to try and alleviate the pull of the hook in his ass. He struggled for a moment, working quickly to adjust to the new position, so eventually he could blink wetly and stare at Bucky.

“I thought I asked you a question, Steve. Didn’t I?” Bucky asked quietly, and Steve moaned brokenly, not able to move his head in a nod.

“Yessir,” He slurred.

“Do you need me to repeat my question?”

Steve shuddered and shifted his balance again. “No, sir.”

Bucky used his other hand to steady Steve when it seemed like he was going to lose his balance. “So your answer is…?” He prompted.

“I’m good, sir. Really good. Please, sir...”

Bucky quirked a grin. “‘Please’ what? You gotta use your words.” Bucky knew he was spreading Steve out pretty thin. It wasn’t very fair to make him answer questions when his focus was obviously needed elsewhere.

“Please.” Steve repeated, apparently unable to elaborate past that. Bucky didn’t hold it against him, his eyes roaming over Steve again to check his arms were still good, and that he was still breathing okay.

“Please… you want me to kiss you? Let you go? Make it tighter?” Bucky was just being a tease at this point, and he knew it.

Steve’s whine was too adorable to make him regret it.

“Kiss me. Please, Bucky. Please, sir.” Steve corrected himself, something that endlessly amused Bucky since he had never specifically asked Steve to address him formally during their scenes.

“Of course I will, Steve. You only had to ask.” Bucky leaned in to kiss him gently so that he wouldn’t unbalance him. It was messy and Bucky was demanding, but Steve opened up so sweetly beneath him despite his predicament.

Pulling back, Bucky was careful to make sure that Steve was good to stand on his own again, letting him tip his head back to relieve the pressure in his ass, and stand flat on his feet. It took a moment for Steve to hold the new position, but then he was fine, breathing hard and doing his best to keep still.

“This looks like it hurts a little bit…” Bucky mentioned, running a finger against the coils of rope that wrapped around his cock. The head looked almost strangled in comparison, and Bucky was pleased with the precome that beaded at the crown.

“Do you want to come?” Bucky asked him innocently as he rubbed the head with his thumb back and forth.

Steve whimpered again, but managed to stutter out, “Whatever you want, sir.”

Bucky beamed at Steve although he knew he couldn’t see it. “That’s the right answer.”

Holding Steve’s cock steady with his metal hand, he pulled out a sleek vibrator from his back pocket with his other. Bucky turned it on and pushed it right up against the underside of Steve’s  cockhead.

Steve choked in surprise when he started at the sensation, and tried to look down.

“Easy, there.” Bucky warned, taking the vibrator away until Steve got himself under control, coughing slightly. “Don’t wanna hurt yourself.”

He waited another moment and then brought the vibrator back into position. This time, Steve was ready for it— as much as he could be ready for anything at this point.

“This is fun, Steve. Just enjoy it.” Bucky told him, moving the vibrator around the flange. Another aborted sound drew Bucky’s attention to the fact that Steve choked himself again by accident. Or at least, Bucky thought it was _probably_ an accident.

He had his suspicions that Steve might be doing it on purpose, especially when he heard the gagging sound a third time.

Either way, he was loving how Steve was losing his mind as Bucky tortured his cock.

“You’re going to come for me.” Bucky ordered him, and Steve choked himself trying to nod. Bucky almost rolled his eyes, because Steve _really_ didn’t have any self-preservation instincts. “We’ll get there, don’t worry.”

It was a long process, what with the rope tight around his cock and balls, but Bucky had nothing but time today. He was used to accessing a bottomless well of patience— His very profession was in waiting.

The payoff was always worth it.

Sure enough, Steve started showing some of the tell-tale signs that he was approaching an orgasm. His legs shook more, and Bucky let go of his cock so as to grip Steve’s hip, helping him stay steady. Steve’s arms were trembling from the strain, and Bucky knew his hands were clenched into fists.

Then Steve started whimpering continuously, and Bucky knew he was trying to fall over the edge, without success.

“Come on baby, you can do it. I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Bucky encouraged him, helpfully upping a level on the vibrator, making Steve cry out.

“You’re doing so well. I know you can come like this. Show me how you can do it.” Steve’s whimpers were cut off occasionally with choked sounds. His stomach tensed, and Bucky peeked around to see that Steve was clenching his ass tightly around the hook. “You’re almost there, keep going. You’re doing great, sweetie, you’ve got this.”

Bucky increased the power again, and Steve screamed, shaking himself into what looked like an intense orgasm. His cries turned into desperate sobs that kept getting cut short as Steve tried to toss his head back.

“There you go.” Bucky murmured, keeping the vibrator against him as Steve’s cock jerked hard in its restraints. There was barely any ejaculate, just a little dribble that drooled down the wrapped ropes. “That’s it, just feel it, Steve. Feel it all.”

Steve’s shudders were wracking his whole body, threatening to take over, so Bucky reached up and tugged on the hanging rope he had left there; he was so happy when he finally mastered the quick-release knot, and was grateful for it now as Steve’s arms slackened behind him.

The second he no longer needed to support his own weight, Steve sagged to his knees, unable to hold himself up. His breaths were still ragged as his collar pulled against the anal hook; Bucky was quick to undo the spreader bar, sliding it to the side, before guiding Steve to lie on his side. The new angle was much more manageable for Steve, and Bucky helped him pillow his head against Bucky’s thigh. The resulting position meant that Steve didn’t have to work to hold himself up any longer.

“I got you, you’re okay.” Bucky praised him quietly, petting his sweaty hair out of his face. Steve shuddered against him, still recoiling. Even though his hands were free now, he let them drop as a dead weight, like the rest of him. Bucky continued to murmur nonsense words, rubbing his arms and massaging spots in his back that were likely to cramp from overuse. He especially worked on the areas that garnered a response from Steve, where he tried to shy away from the contact, or it elicited a particularly harsh whimper.

“God, look at you.” Bucky whispered, digging his fingers into strong muscle. Steve was calming down, sniffling periodically and pushing his face against Bucky when he could reach. “You’re absolutely perfect for me. You know that, right?”

All that Steve could muster for a response was a distracted, “Mmm.”

Bucky laughed.

“It’s true, I promise. Here.” Bucky reached around Steve and relaxed the length between the collar and the hook. Steve moaned at his newfound freedom, but didn’t make any effort to move, opting to impersonate a limp noodle instead. Bucky chuckled, seeing his refusal, and continued to work, undoing the ropes entirely and then sliding Steve’s head down to a cushion on the floor so that he could get at the collar.

“I think that counts as a success, don’t you think?” Bucky said as he slipped the collar off, and checked the skin underneath; it was a little pink from the friction, and the edges left little lines and impressions, but it wasn’t anything Bucky needed to worry about.

“You really liked this, I think.” Bucky tapped on the anal hook as he knelt behind him. Steve groaned when Bucky manhandled him, grabbing his hips and rolling his ass so it was in a better position to get it out. He gripped the end of the steel rod and tugged it until it slipped out, easier with all the lube still there.

“God, that really is a perfect view.” Bucky breathed, watching as Steve’s hole didn’t quite close all the way. “You could almost say this is a good enough opportunity to…” Bucky cut himself off, realizing what he was about to say.

Steve was apparently more alert than Bucky had guessed, because he simply hummed and lifted his ass up toward Bucky in reply.

“Steve…” Bucky didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He didn’t want to misinterpret anything here— which was ironic, given the sheer number of ridiculous things Steve had allowed Bucky to do to him up to this point.

But this was a line Bucky had apparently drawn for himself, and he suddenly felt a little lost.

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice was gravelly as it cut through the silence, “Y’know what to do.” His words were a bit slurred, but there was no hesitation there.

It was the final push Bucky needed, and he let out a deep breath and settled himself down again. Steve was right, he knew exactly what to do.

He wanted to do it— more importantly, _Steve_ wanted to do it— and that was more than enough reason for Bucky to get moving.

He reached for the lube he used earlier, grinning despite himself when he realized that they would need to buy more pretty soon, given the rate they were going. He slicked himself up, not letting himself think too much about it, and then positioned himself right behind Steve. He grabbed his hips as an anchor, and gave himself one last deep breath.

He let it out in a rush, and then moved forward, gasping as he pushed easily into Steve.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed, and he could _feel_ Steve tighten up around him. Steve let out a throaty moan that sounded completely satisfied, and Bucky let out a breathy laugh.

Steve canted his hips back, clearly trying to make the angle good for Bucky, and sure enough, he slid in just a little deeper, making him groan.

Bucky forced himself to go slowly, wanting to take his time and make it perfect— or close to it, anyway.

After all, this was the first time they’d actually _fucked_ in this century.

His body knew Steve better than he knew himself, and setting an easy rhythm wasn’t hard once he focused; sense memories kept trying to overlap with visual memories, and while it was comforting to know they weren’t completely erased, Bucky wanted to be present for the memories he was making right now.

Steve was happy to lay there and barely participate, letting Bucky take complete control. The one thing he did though, was to reach a hand back towards Bucky, seeking out his touch. Bucky grabbed it with his flesh hand, interlocking their fingers and squeezing tightly. He was mindful of Steve’s arm, not wanting to strain it any more after it was pulled back earlier, so he curled over Steve’s back to deepen his thrusts, and let Steve’s elbow bend easier.

Bucky wanted to tell Steve how much he loved him; how he’d missed this, how much he _wanted_ this, and opened his mouth to speak, but his words never came. Instead, he pressed his forehead against Steve’s back and panted, brushing his mouth in sloppy open kisses, and hoped that could be enough, for now.

He didn’t know how much time passed before his orgasm gently rose up and swept him away, making him press his face against Steve’s back and breathe hard. He realized he was shaking, his arms threatening to give out. Steve solved that problem for him, tightening his grip on Bucky and stretching out his free arm, pulling Bucky’s hand along with it and effectively robbing Bucky of his balance. He dropped his full weight onto Steve, who simply hummed happily, and Bucky realized he was more than fine.

Bucky wrapped his metal arm tightly around Steve in return, giving him a backwards hug as he settled, slowly matching his breathing with Steve’s.

“Mmm, that was nice.” Steve said eventually. Bucky nodded, his face pressed into Steve’s nape where he could smell him and rub his nose against the soft hair there. With a sigh, Bucky rolled away from Steve, wincing at the way their skin came unstuck. Steve shivered at the new, cool air against his skin, so Bucky propped himself up enough to reach toward the ottoman and grab the quilt laid across it. He tucked them both under the soft fabric, covering their heads like children.

“I love you, Steve. So fucking much.” Bucky told him, emotion heavy in every word. Steve scooted up tight against Bucky and held his hand again— the metal one this time— and Bucky was beyond grateful that it had never bothered Steve in the slightest.

“I love you too, Buck. Thank you for this.”

Bucky shook his head, and even in the dim light under the blanket he could see Steve’s brow furrow a little. “No, thank _you_. God, you’re so wonderful, and so…you give this to me so easily, and I can’t... I can’t thank you enough.”

Steve grinned, and it was suddenly the brightest thing in their little corner of the world. “I think we were made for each other. Can’t argue with fate, Bucky.”

That drew a small laugh out of Bucky. “No, guess not.”

They spent the rest of their afternoon there, cuddling into each other under a quilt in the middle of the living room, and Bucky couldn’t think of anywhere else he would rather be.

*

Outside of their scenes, Bucky was surprised to find himself growing more flexible with his life. Clint called him “super chill” one day, which only led to an over-exaggerated explanation for Steve’s sake when he asked what it meant. Bucky was 99% sure that Steve was pretending to not understand if only for the increasing flustered looks Clint kept giving him when Steve tried to make it a personal insult.

Bucky just laughed, feeling more carefree than ever.

He just didn’t feel the drive to control every single aspect of his life anymore, because he knew he could do it anytime if he wanted to.

It was so different from before when he felt constantly powerless, but ever since he began playing with Steve, he had relearned somewhere along the way that he _could_ choose. He now could enjoy life as it was, with this outlet of theirs, when before he had absolutely no control, or even the _right_ to control his life.

Fuck his history. He was in charge now.

Steve too had changed, Bucky noticed. He was a little more relaxed in general, and had a firmer grip on his role at work. He’d always been a leader, but in the past few months, he’d grown more confident in his skill, directing the Avengers in combat and other missions. It was subtle, but Bucky knew the others had noticed it too; if anyone bothered to read the reports from SHIELD psychologists, they would see that team morale was higher than ever.

(Bucky read them, but that was just his own curiosity.)

They were both content, embracing the safe way they had discovered to release their tensions with each other. They felt _balanced._

Not only that, but Bucky’s sessions with Launa were going surprisingly well. He still hated getting triggered, hearing the damning words, but he resisted more and more, snapping back to himself faster each time.

Launa was proud of him.

So was Steve.

Dammit, Bucky was proud too.

*

Steve needed to come down, _hard_.

That much was painfully clear.

A mission had gone wrong— really wrong— and Steve was in a bad way that Bucky had only rarely seen since he’d come back.

The only problem was the way that Steve clearly thought he could stabilize— Bucky was surprised when he realized that _this_ was the unhealthy way of doing what they did. _This_ mentality was where things went wrong.

“Punish me.” Steve demanded harshly as he stormed through the door, his eyes narrowed and furious.

“Why?” Bucky asked, forcing himself to stay calm, and not show any surprise in his face. He somehow managed to not twitch a muscle from his position in the armchair.

Steve crossed his arms angrily, staring down at Bucky. “Fuck you; you _know_ why. It was my fault.”

Bucky knew better than to argue with Steve when he was like this, but he also knew that he had to help Steve understand how _wrong_ he was. Yes, the mission was a failure, but Bucky had hacked into the comms, as usual, and knew for a fact that it hadn’t been Steve’s fault.

Steve just accepted every mistake as his own; it was something Bucky was working on with him, but it was a hard lesson to learn. Bucky didn’t fault him for it, not when he had his own internal battles, over and over again.

“Okay.” Bucky agreed, thinking quickly. He set aside the laptop he’d been on— closing the tabs on the mission Steve had just finished, and leaned forward. He let his hands steeple together and surveyed Steve, who for once, looked a little shaken.

Steve closed his mouth with an audible click, taken aback. He clearly hadn’t expected Bucky to give in so easily, and he squared his shoulders in apprehension.

Bucky closed his eyes and waved towards Steve, snapping, “Be quiet,” when he saw Steve open his mouth to argue. “And strip. Now.”

It came out coarser than he expected, but he didn’t regret it. He knew exactly what Steve needed in that moment.

When he didn’t hear the expected rustle of clothes, Bucky opened his eyes and saw how Steve just kept staring at him, obviously trying to decide whether to listen to him or not.

Almost faster than he meant to, Bucky stood up and stepped right into Steve’s space, snarling, “Did I fucking stutter?”

Finally, Steve saw what he expected to see in Bucky’s face. He puffed his chest out, baiting Bucky and desperate to get pushed back.

Bucky was more than happy to play along, for now.

Steve answered his question with the angriest strip tease Bucky had ever seen. He threw the clothes down on the floor— almost daring Bucky to say something about it— but Bucky simply turned away and walked towards Steve’s bedroom. The unspoken command to follow was left hanging in the air, and Bucky didn’t need to check to know that Steve was a few steps behind him.

“Kneel.” Bucky ordered, opening the drawer he knew Steve had thrown the rope into earlier that week. They had parts of the stash split up between rooms in case they didn’t feel like going to another area in the apartment for something specific. At the time Bucky had thought it overkill, but now he was very grateful for their foresight.

Granted, he doubted they could have foreseen _this_.

Bucky turned around, bundles of rope in his arms, in time to see Steve stalk towards the bed, moving to get on.

“I said, _kneel_.” Bucky barked, making Steve freeze. He looked at Bucky and opened his mouth to speak, almost asking for clarification, before snapping it closed with a tight press of lips. Bucky knew it was throwing Steve off because he almost never made him kneel on the floor.

Steve was quick though, and figured it out. Taking his knee off the bedspread from where he had started to get onto the bed, he took a step closer to Bucky and then dropped down to his knees. He held his head high, too defiant for a submissive posture.

Bucky ignored it and started lying out the rope on the bed behind Steve. He found it a sort of poetic irony that he chose to use rope for this, since they both loved it so much. Ever since he found out about suspensions, he’d been working his way up to it slowly, knowing Steve was also very interested. One day, Bucky would feel confident enough in his abilities to try.

Today was not that day. It wasn’t what Steve needed.

In fact, he didn’t actually need much today; he’d brought out way more rope than he figured he’d need, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

Unwinding the rope, Bucky knelt behind Steve and took in the hard lines of his shoulders. The tension there was almost vibrating, and he actually flinched when Bucky finally reached out to brush his fingers gently across his skin.

He didn’t bother with any platitudes; he knew they wouldn’t be accepted. Instead, he firmed his touch until it became a tight grip, pulling Steve’s arms back, and pressing his wrists together— one over the other. The implicit command to keep them there was obvious enough that Bucky didn’t worry about Steve trying to move.

Tying his wrists together was easy enough, and before long he was moving the rope around and cinching it into place; it was a fairly simple chest harness that kept everything where Bucky wanted it. He didn’t say a word about how Steve was bristling with pent up energy. He knew Steve wanted it hard; wanted it rough and painful and distracting. Bucky would help him get to where he needed to be to let all of that tension out, but he refused to do it Steve’s way.

That lesson was one Bucky had learned very early on over the years: you couldn’t solve violence with violence. No matter what people thought, it never worked.

He finished the rope by tucking the extra length in the back, making a loose bow to keep it tidy. There was no need for anything intricate or pretty. Grabbing another bundle, Bucky pulled out the end of the rope and clinically manhandled Steve into a cock-and-ball harness. Steve’s balls were pulled apart and already looked swollen with how tightly Bucky wrapped the rope around them, and his cock was tied off at the base. Steve was only starting to fill from Bucky touching him, but by the time he tied off the last knot, Steve was more than half-hard.

Bucky pulled the excess rope through Steve’s legs, and slipped the slack into Steve’s bound hands. He closed Steve’s fingers tightly around the rope and then let go.

He effectively put Steve in charge, and Steve balked a little when he came to that realization.

“Hold on, this—”

“I will gag you if you don’t be quiet.” Bucky informed him politely, cutting him off. That Steve actually tried to argue with him told Bucky that he was on exactly the right track.

Steve clicked his mouth shut, realizing his mistake, but he was still too far from the headspace he so desperately needed. That was okay, because Bucky was going to try his damndest to get him there.

Bucky loosely anchored Steve to a hook in the ceiling by the chest harness with another length of rope, and then grabbed a last bundle. The rope work was sloppy-looking, but effective, and then both of Steve’s ankles were slightly spread apart and fastened to the posts of Steve’s bed. The end result meant Steve could struggle all he wanted, but it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve was clearly confused at the turn of events, and started to get restless. Bucky sat on the bed behind him, watching as the muscles in his back shifted, trying to determine what freedom of movement he had.

With no orders, Steve twitched and _shifted_ , trying to figure out Bucky’s game. Slowly, he realized he could pull at the ropes himself, bending over slightly and raising his bound hands as much as possible. When he did, the rope around his cock and balls tightened brutally.

At first, Steve shied away from it, obviously uncomfortable and edging into pain when he moved too much. But he couldn’t help struggling against himself, and soon he accepted the motions, going along with it as he grew accustomed to the harsh ropes.

Bucky knew Steve could get himself hard like this, and sure enough, Steve soon started to breathe harder and faster as he brutally pulled and released the rope, with nothing else to do. His cock filled completely, and Bucky knew it wasn’t going to go soft any time soon— not without some help.

Steve refused to make a sound louder than the occasional gasp, and Bucky wondered how long his stoic silence would last. Every now and then, Steve would turn his head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Bucky behind him, but Bucky had chosen the right angle to stay in Steve’s blind spot.

It finally came to a head when Steve was clearly getting fed up with the torment and just wanted to come. He still wasn’t quite in the right headspace, but it was a step in the right direction when he gathered up the energy— or courage, Bucky thought— to finally stammer out, “I need to come.”

There was uncertainty mixed with the remnants of anger in his tone, because this was new territory. They’d never set up rules or routines for this before because they’d never expected to run into anything quite like this.

“No.” Bucky told him flatly.

Steve turned his head towards Bucky again, this time going further trying to twist his whole body to get a better view. Bucky stuck a foot out to stop him.

“If you’re going to—”

“Be quiet.” Bucky reminded him, giving another little push with his foot.

Steve bristled at the rebuke but stopped talking, relaxing his muscles until he faced forward again. Bucky dropped his foot and noticed Steve resumed pulling at himself. Steve needed to expend his energy somehow, and this predicament only gave him one way to do it.

After a few more minutes, silence intermingling with the sound of heavy breathing, Steve demanded again. “Bucky, let me come.”

Bucky denied him. “No.”

Steve’s frustration was palpable as he growled, yanking at the rope and hissing when it hurt. Bucky guessed that Steve was having a hard time because he was conflicted. He wanted the relief they got from their usual scenes, but he couldn’t find it because he wouldn’t allow himself to let go.

Bucky always knew Steve better than he knew himself.

“Can I come?” Steve finally asked. At least his tone had softened to sound less demanding.

But he still wasn’t _there._

“No.” Bucky replied, shifting in his seat. They’d been there long enough for his ass to start tingling just a little. No wonder Steve was getting more and more agitated.

Granted, most of that was probably Steve’s desperation starting to kick in as he was denied again.

And again.

And again.

Steve was sweating and shaking the next time he croaked out, “Please, can I come?”

“No.”

That finally garnered an actual whimper from Steve. It was the first genuine sound of the night to escape, and Bucky knew the rest would follow soon enough.

It was quiet sounds at first; little whimpers and whines that Steve uselessly tried to keep in the back of his throat. Then the moans and cries trickled out, in time with each vicious tug. The skin around his balls was bright red and looked close to a rope burn, if it wasn’t already. A red line followed the trail of the rope up Steve’s back to where he held the rope. The harness around his chest was tighter than before, and Bucky knew that the rope marks would be deep and last a while.

After a particularly pathetic cry of frustration, Bucky spoke quietly, “You can use the safeword if you need to stop, Steve.”

That made Steve hitch in a breath, but Bucky continued, “You have to know that this is the way I’m going to run the scene, if you decide to continue. Let me know what you want.”

Steve exhaled forcefully, and shook his head, before visibly trying to compose himself.

The moment of clarity didn’t last long before he broke down again and struggled, begging, “Please, Bucky— sir. _Please._ Let me come.”

When Bucky refused again, Steve ducked his head and sobbed. His hands went limp at Bucky’s voice, but then started up again, only to repeat the cycle minutes later. Every time Bucky told him ‘no’, it was harder to force himself to stop, and Bucky himself was starting to get agitated.

His was more from knowing the end was near, than from Steve’s reaction.

“Please, please, pl-please…” Steve begged in between gasping breaths. His voice was thick with tears, sounding nasal from his stuffed nose.

“Please _what_ , Steve?” Bucky prompted when Steve trailed off.

“Please—” Steve stopped himself, shaking his head. “Please touch me, sir, something, anything, I don’t— I don’t care— I just need you, Bucky—”

This was what Bucky had been waiting for, having kept his distance, and he moved to wrap his arms around Steve’s back, stroking his bound arms, his sides, everything he could reach as Steve broke down, finally brought to the release he’d been needing.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here.” Bucky murmured, quickly undoing the anchor points so that he could tug Steve backwards into an embrace. It only took a moment and then Steve was crying into Bucky’s shoulder, great, wracking sobs that stuttered in and out.

“You did so well, Steve, I’m so proud of you.” Bucky kissed him everywhere he could reach— his temples, his hair, his shoulders. “It wasn’t your fault. It _wasn’t_ your fault.”

Steve only cried harder.

“That’s it. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

It took a long while before Steve’s crying eased. Bucky didn’t blame him; he knew Steve often tried to take the weight of the world on his shoulders. Slowly, Steve began to sniffle and shudder— an adrenaline crash was inevitable, and Steve was no exception.

Bucky shushed him quietly, registering how Steve’s breathing began to even out. His whole body seemed to grow heavier with relief, and finally Bucky knew that Steve was okay, floating finally in the peaceful headspace he needed.

“There you go. Just breathe for me, you’re doing great.” Bucky took the opportunity to undo the rope, gently moving Steve around to reach the knots and unwind the rope from his body. Just like Bucky predicted, the marks left behind were deep and left perfect impressions that mimicked the threads of the rope. Steve whined quietly as the pressure of being bound was slowly lifted, and then whimpered again when Bucky rubbed feeling back into sore muscles. Bucky took his time, massaging his arms, wrists, hands, shoulders, chest, back: everything. He also took care to leave behind tender kisses on the worst of the marks.

Steve’s cock and balls suffered a great deal more, and Bucky was astonished he hadn’t managed to break the skin. That being said, he was still in rough shape, and Bucky winced as he exposed each new area, finally throwing all of the rope to one side.

“I’m moving you onto the bed, sweetie. All you have to do it let me, okay? Can you do that for me?” Bucky smoothed out Steve’s hair, turning his face towards him, and watched as Steve nodded absently, his eyes still closed. He was breathing softly through his mouth, and Bucky made a mental note to grab tissues for later.

“Good.” Bucky maneuvered Steve slightly, then lifted him into his arms. Steve was heavy as fuck, but they didn’t have far to go. He carefully stepped around the rope laying around, and settled Steve squarely on the bed. “Stay there, I’m not leaving.” Bucky warned, kissing Steve’s forehead. He waited one more beat and then turned to walk to the dresser. The rope drawer was still open from earlier, so Bucky found the aloe vera cream easily enough.

He made his way back to the bed and hopped on, crawling over Steve to settle cross-legged next to him. “It’s just cream,” Bucky told him, uncapping the bottle. “It’s going to make you feel better.”

Steve didn’t answer, but Bucky hadn’t really expected him to. He just squeezed out a few dollops and began to carefully spread it over Steve’s genitals. He noted the raw and irritated skin, but nothing that was truly damaged. He knew Steve would heal quickly even without the cream, but Bucky wanted him to be comfortable now.

Bucky also noticed that even with the rope gone, Steve was still pretty hard. It was clearly not urgent though, and Bucky didn’t think Steve would appreciate any more stimulation tonight, so he kept it professional as he slathered on the aloe. Steve twitched at his touch, but didn’t say anything.

Looking over his work, Bucky was satisfied he’d gotten every sore spot. Steve looked almost drugged— floppy and heavy at rest. Most of the sweat had dried, and Bucky knew Steve would want a shower later so that he wouldn’t feel grimy. For now, Bucky was endeared by the way the longer strands of hair at his neck began to curl with the damp.

Bucky set the bottle aside and moved to lie down beside Steve. He trailed his fingers along Steve’s cheek. “You’re okay. Just relax.”

Refusing to open his eyes, Steve took in a big breath, sounding steadier than before, and then let it out as he turned on his side to face Bucky. Bucky chuckled quietly when Steve didn’t stop there, and continued to tuck himself against Bucky’s body— the way they usually ended up after one of their scenes.

“Yeah, you’re okay.” Bucky whispered, embracing Steve and tugging him closer. He breathed him in, and let himself settle, feeling Steve’s heart beat strong and sure.

*

Movie night was one of those ideas that Tony had mentioned off-handedly one time, then forced everyone to attend and contribute to regularly while he thought himself a genius for coming up with ‘team-building experiences’.

It had started off rough, with no one wanting to join in or even relax, but after a couple of sessions, everyone realized how high-strung they were and resigned themselves to it regardless.

Almost everyone enjoyed them now.

Bucky had grown to like them because Steve liked them. Steve tried at first to convince Bucky that he must like them because he had always loved movies back in the 40’s, but when Bucky couldn’t remember that particular hobby, Steve let it go and let Bucky figure it out on his own.

Bucky didn’t mind enjoying movies through Steve’s eyes. He figured it made more sense that way. And honestly, he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t only liked them back then because of Steve either. It was a moot point now, though.

Tonight, Steve was very much conflicted.

Namely because it was the first time they were doing something outside of their home.

They had talked about it at length the week before, with Bucky saying it would be the perfect time because everyone would be distracted, and Bucky had finally won Steve over with a simple challenge.

He bet Steve wouldn’t reveal the game during movie night.

Steve, of course, had argued that he would. _Of_ _course he would_.

So Bucky raised the stakes, betting Steve his orgasm.

If Steve could stay quiet and not let anyone know about their little game, he was allowed to come.

But if someone caught on to what they were doing, he wouldn’t be able to come for a week, and Bucky had _plans_.

Steve ended up agreeing to the bet, which was how he came to be under their shared blanket in the dim lighting of Stark’s movie room, lounging next to Bucky and getting edged brutally.

Bucky was staring at the TV screen, casually pretending to watch the movie while paying attention to Steve in his peripheral vision. Honestly, watching Steve was far more entertaining than anything that would play on the screen, because Steve was practically dying on the inside.

It was _hot_ under their blanket, because Steve’s body heat was jacked up from Bucky’s hand stroking him carefully and deliberately. Bucky was pulling out all the stops, going for the tricks he knew that would drive Steve wild, then stopping before Steve could think to do anything about it.

The red flush on Steve’s cheeks was turning Bucky on more than the repressed sounds he knew Steve was struggling to keep inside. He also knew that arousal wasn’t the only reason he was so red— Steve was absolutely mortified at the thought of anyone on the team finding out what they were doing.

Bucky wasn’t concerned about that because everyone was distracted, and Steve’s fear would keep him from doing anything to attract attention in the first place. He knew Steve wasn’t as confident in his own abilities, but that was what made this so much fun.

Honestly, Bucky was more worried about laughing at the wrong moment and giving the game away himself.

Stroking Steve, Bucky started to feel the tell-tale signs of Steve’s impending orgasm, and he dropped his fist down to the base of his cock to squeeze, helpfully stalling any accidental outbursts. Steve turned his head into Bucky’s shoulder and bit down, breathing out long and hard.

Bucky glanced around. No one noticed.

He spared a grateful thought that he wasn’t using his left arm, because Steve wouldn’t have enjoyed trying to bite into his metal shoulder. Then that mental image almost made him laugh, and he was forced to distract himself by resuming his stroking.

It was far too soon though, and Steve’s hand clenched tightly on Bucky’s thigh at the whiplash. Bucky backed off and kissed Steve’s cheek in apology.

Steve refused to meet his eyes.

Bucky had so much fun; he had only meant to tease Steve for a while, but he ended up edging him for the duration of the entire movie— and how unfortunate for poor Steve that Clint had picked a two-and-a-half hour long film.

By the time the credits rolled, Bucky was absolutely certain that Steve would not be able to remember the name of the movie, let alone anything that had happened on the screen.

“Did you enjoy it?” Bucky asked, using his hand to push Steve’s erection down so it wasn’t tenting the blanket.

Steve thumped his head on Bucky’s shoulder, right where he had bitten it earlier, and groaned.

“Yeah, I didn’t like it either.” Bruce commented from his side of the couch as he got up.

Bucky snickered as he watched Bruce walk away. Steve shook his head.

“I don’t know, I thought there were some good moments.” He let his thumb slide back and forth along Steve’s shaft, and Steve groaned again, losing the battle to censor himself.

They stayed where they were as the rest of the team began to say their goodnights. The moment Bucky tried to shift his weight— thinking about getting up and stretching— Steve flatly said, “No.”

Chuckling, Bucky settled back against the couch, knowing that Steve would get up and go wherever Bucky said, despite his refusal. He _could_ be merciful.

Natasha and Clint were the last ones to say goodnight; Clint wasn’t paying attention as he waved vaguely at them, but Natasha smirked at Bucky. She asked, “Tired?” to Steve, and Steve had nodded so solemnly that Bucky almost lost it right there.

When they were alone at last, Bucky let go of Steve’s cock, pulling his hand out and sitting up. He pushed the blanket off them and looked down, laughing when he saw the tent in Steve’s sweatpants.

“You ready to go home, now?” Bucky asked, already anticipating Steve’s reaction.

On cue, Steve’s head snapped up and he whined, “I thought we were staying in our suite tonight?”

Bucky smiled and leaned in to kiss Steve. “We can stay, if you like.” Stark had enough rooms in the tower for all of them twice over. Most of the team preferred to stay central when they were on rotation, so it made sense for each of them to have their own place. Steve and Bucky simply shared a room whenever they were there.

“Please?” Steve begged, his eyes growing big at the prospect of having to deal with a hard-on all the way from the tower and for who-knew-how-long a ride in city traffic to their home. Brooklyn was _so far away_ from downtown Manhattan and the journey home would be _torture_.

“Of course.” Bucky capitulated. “Let’s go.”

They made it to the elevator with Bucky laughing twice at Steve’s awkward walk when he kept having to stop and adjust himself. Bucky almost made a comment about how he probably lost the bet on a technicality because there was no way JARVIS didn’t know what they were doing, but Bucky figured he would let it go. He doubted JARVIS would rat them out to Tony, so it didn’t matter.

As soon as they were through their door, Bucky ordered, “Get on the bed. Face down, ass up. And get rid of those clothes.”

Steve rushed to obey so quickly that Bucky burst out laughing.

“Somebody’s eager, aren’t they?” He teased, taking off his own clothes slowly to make Steve wait. God, he looked _so good_ waiting for Bucky exactly how Bucky instructed. “But I wonder what you could be eager for? Do you think you won the bet?” He snatched up the bottle of lube he snuck in there earlier.

Steve’s answer was muffled at first from where he was lying face down, but he turned his head to the side to speak more clearly. “No one saw.”

Bucky hummed dramatically as he thought. “I don’t know. I have a feeling Natasha might have guessed. Of course, that would mean you don’t get to come tonight. Or even for the next couple of nights…” He let the threat hang in the air as he uncapped the lube and drizzled some straight onto Steve’s waiting hole. Steve yelped at the cool contact, but then settled with a moan as Bucky spread the lube around and then began to push in with his fingers.

He was loose enough for Bucky to slip in two without a problem, but he still took his time, scissoring back and forth and teasing the rim before beginning to push in a third finger.

“I—” Steve panted out, pushing his hips back hopefully against Bucky’s fingers, “I’m pretty— _ah!_ — sure that Natasha didn’t, _mmm_ , notice.” Every little twitch of Bucky’s fingers was enough to throw Steve into a frenzy. Steve’s cock was already drooling on the sheets from oversensitivity. He’d been waiting for release for so long…

“She’s the best spy, remember?” Bucky argued with good-humor. “Nothing gets past her.” Steve was taking all three fingers, pushing back hard, so Bucky stopped him with his metal hand and pulled his fingers out. Steve whined at the empty feeling. “I know, I know— give me a moment.” Bucky knelt onto the bed behind Steve and lined himself up, pushing in deep all the way.

“Fuck!” Steve moaned, fisting the sheets and _still_ trying to push back onto Bucky.

“You feel so fucking good,” Bucky panted, not even bothering to hold himself still as he rocked back and forth, meeting Steve’s ass. Slowly, his thrusts started to build, snapping against Steve rhythmically. “I wanna be in you all the time, Stevie.” Bucky dropped a hand down next to Steve’s side and bent over slightly, deepening his thrusts and making Steve cry out.

“Yes, yes, please! Yes sir.” Steve rambled, his knuckles pale with how hard he was holding on.

Bucky fucked into him harder. “All the time…” He wrapped a hand around Steve’s cock, jerking him off in time with his movements.

Steve yelled, letting go of the sheets to reach above his head, tightening his fingers around the wooden slats.

“Don’t fucking break those.” Bucky warned, not particularly eager to explain to Stark exactly how they managed to break the bed.

“Yessir, I— yes, please, please, can I— please?” Steve begged, caught between meeting Bucky’s thrusts and pushing into Bucky’s grip.

“I don’t know.” Bucky let go of Steve’s cock, knowing he was close. Steve whimpered at the loss, and then grunted when Bucky didn’t let up fucking him. “I’m not so sure you won, though. Someone probably saw. Bruce left rather quickly, didn’t he?”

He returned his hand, and Steve moaned and shook his head at the sensation. “He didn’t…see— _fuck_ — no one….saw!” Bucky pulled away again, almost laughing at how quickly Steve was able to reach the edge of release.

“You kept moving under that blanket you know.” Bucky was just teasing him now, knowing that Steve would argue the opposite.

“I did not, _mmm_ , move.” There it was. Bucky resumed stroking him.

“Okay. But I think Tony could tell, don’t you?” Bucky could feel himself getting pretty close.

He let go of Steve again, making him whine, “No one saw! I—promise, no one…saw…”

Bucky leaned even closer, pressing himself against Steve’s back, and pushing his face against Steve’s shoulder. He bit into the meat of muscles there, making Steve cry out. “Mmm, payback, don’t you think?”

Steve shivered, and Bucky heard the creak of wood. “Watch it.” He murmured softly, grabbing Steve’s cock again, stroking fast. “Wouldn’t want any more reasons to not let you come.”

“Fuck!” Steve swore again, “I— please let me— I won. _Goddammit_ , I won, _sir_!”

Bucky didn’t stop stroking, squeezing tightly and speeding up, “You did, didn’t you? Come for me, then.”

He timed it perfectly so that they both tumbled over the edge at the same time. Bucky pushed in hard and felt himself let go in pulses, each wave so intense and threatening to make him pass out with pleasure. Underneath him, Steve was writhing and gasping, spilling over Bucky’s hand, his cock jerking hard.

When Steve finally let his legs slide out from under him, Bucky collapsed on top, forcing a breathy laugh from Steve.

They lay there for long minutes, both of them breathing hard and enjoying the moment.

“Can I have my hand back now?” Bucky mumbled against Steve’s neck. It had fallen asleep  trapped under Steve’s body.

“You’re the one on top of _me_.” Steve pointed out petulantly, but he still lifted his hips— and Bucky in turn— so that Bucky could slip his hand out.

“Couldn’t have been the metal one?” Bucky complained as he clenched and spread his fingers, getting the feeling back.

Steve wiggled his butt, causing Bucky to roll off him as he said, “That sounds like a personal problem.”

Bucky swatted at Steve’s ass with his dead hand, making Steve yelp in protest.

“ _You’re_ a personal problem.” Bucky retorted, knowing it was lame. Steve’s snort told him he also knew it, but didn’t care. Bucky stretched out on his back, and Steve scooted closer until he tucked a leg in between Bucky’s, and let his head rest against his chest. Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve to hold him close.

“You know,” Bucky began slowly, “Natasha really didn’t know what we were doing.”

Steve tilted his head up towards Bucky. “Oh? How can you be so sure?” Steve’s incredulous tone was completely valid, because on any other night, Natasha _would_ have caught them.

“Because she was too busy jerking Clint off under _their_ blanket.”

Steve burst out laughing.  

*

Bucky was tense.

Or rather, Bucky was even _more_ tense.

Every day brought him closer to that fucking _psych evaluation_ which would decide whether he’d actually be considered a functioning member of society. He’d gotten soft during this probation, thinking he could just forget the bad things as easily as he had when he was wiped after a mission.

He also knew his reaction was stupid, because he’d actually been doing really well.

Especially after he’d started up these games with Steve.

Hell, even his therapist was impressed with his progress— even if she had more or less figured out what they were doing. That had been an awkward conversation for Bucky, even though she was completely professional in her questions. She had dedicated that session to talking about boundaries and safety, and essentially gave Bucky her approval for finding something that worked for him. She said that everyone’s coping mechanisms were different, but that if he ever started to go off the rails, that they would have to stop and reevaluate to make sure he was on the right path— the same as he would with any other activity.

All in all, it was more or less the same as what she had told him earlier on, but in more detail, and with a lot more innuendo since she didn’t come out right and say she knew what he was hinting at.

Bucky knew that she knew.

He _knew_.

Regardless, he was secretly pleased that an impartial third party was aware of their situation and took the initiative to let him know it was okay. He’d heard it from his new online friends multiple times— everyone insisting that he wasn’t a freak, or crazy to have these urges, and that it was okay to do the things he and Steve did together. But there was always that little voice in the back of his head that insisted he didn’t deserve this. Having extra support helped silence that voice a little more each day.

Some days, he didn’t hear it all.

Overall, he had made good progress. He’d never felt more _human_.

His life with Steve was amazing. He got along with Steve’s team members well enough. He had actual friends that he spoke with now, whether online or meeting up for coffee or lunch sometimes. He found a routine in volunteering at an animal shelter several times a week, where cats and dogs and the occasional bird never judged him.

Hell, he could even have actual conversations about HYDRA and his past without clamming up.

(Well, not completely. He was aware that the effects of his trauma would never fully go away, and he would always have to manage his own triggers in conversation; although he was navigating them better than ever. He was reluctantly forced to admit that therapy could occasionally be a good thing.)

His life was surprisingly on the right track, and he knew he was ready to take the training wheels off.

So, of course, he was freaking out over the upcoming evaluation.

Even knowing it was irrational, his anxiety only made him feel like he was sliding backwards in progress, despite the evidence to the contrary.

The result of it all was he became very snappy and in a sour mood for most of the day. He’d recognized it, and tried to tone it down, but it was clear he failed when Steve cornered him one night.

Ambushed him, more like.

The moment Bucky came through the door from an unsatisfying night at the range, he stopped in his tracks and nearly dropped his keys.

“Uh, Steve?” Bucky’s voice wavered as he took in the scene before him.

Steve was naked and bent over on his knees in a supplication pose. He had his arms stretched out on the floor in front of him, a couple of bundles of rope in his hands as an offering.

Bucky would laugh, but he knew it wasn’t funny.

Steve hadn’t even flinched at the noises Bucky made. Nor was he offering any explanation.

God, Bucky had no clue how long Steve had been like that, waiting for him. That last thought helped Bucky finally take a deep breath.

Kneeling down in front of Steve, he took the rope from his hands and set it aside, pulling his extended arms up in a silent plea for him to sit upright.

Steve slowly did, his face impassive.

“Hey.” Bucky murmured, caressing Steve’s face and feeling relief when Steve leaned into the touch. “What’s going on?”

Steve turned his head to kiss Bucky’s palm before answering, “I’ve seen how wound up you’ve been getting, Buck. Doing a scene usually helps you calm down.” He said it so simply, like it was obvious. Bucky felt a stab of guilt because they hadn’t actually done anything like that in the past couple of weeks. Between Steve’s work and Bucky’s worrying, they hadn’t had the energy for more than the occasional handjob before collapsing into sleep; and even those had been lame and quick— nothing that would put either of them into the right mindset to truly relax.

His regret must have shown on his face because Steve’s voice was sharp when he said, “Quit that. It’s not your fault, so stop it.”

It sounded like an order, and Bucky snorted, the irony of the tone with Steve’s position not lost on Bucky.

“You can safeword, if you want.” Steve spoke quietly.

That sobered Bucky up in an instant.

“No.” Bucky told him softly, pulling Steve’s face towards him and letting their foreheads touch. He closed his eyes and took his time, thinking and breathing deeply until they were both in sync. Steve had brought the rope out because he knew it was Bucky’s favorite, and he was literally on his knees asking for this— for _Bucky’s_ sake.

_God_ , Bucky didn’t deserve him.

But he was sure as hell going to try to.

“Are you sure about this?” Bucky asked, eyes still closed.

“Stop trying to give me an out, Buck.” Steve chastised, and it gave Bucky the push he needed.

“Then I’m not stopping until I’m done or I hear the word.” Bucky opened his eyes and pushed away from Steve, picking up the rope as he went.

Steve looked up at him, expectantly. “Yes sir.”

Bucky dropped a kiss on his forehead and then stood up and toed off his shoes. He kicked them off to the side, but was a little more careful as he shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the side of the couch. Taking off his belt, Bucky mentally ran through the different things he could do with Steve here in the living room. He left his shirt and jeans on, comfortable enough for now.

Steve was silent the whole time Bucky undressed. He watched him, simply waiting.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” Bucky asked. Steve opened his mouth to answer, but closed it slowly when Bucky shook his head. Steve nodded his understanding and let Bucky take over.

And he did.

He started off by tying Steve up, going fast and hard to work off some of the pent-up energy that he had been trying to ignore so desperately. Bucky knew he was being a little rough, less considerate than usual as he wrapped the rope around Steve’s skin and tightened knots, but he knew that Steve could take it.

Bucky was fiercely proud that despite the frantic chaos that raged inside of him, he was still able to maintain enough awareness to know that he couldn’t go too far. He wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ — not with Steve.

Never with Steve.

Instead, he just marked Steve up and put him into difficult positions. First, he tied Steve into a tight ball, lashing his thighs and calves together to keep him in a kneeling position, and then pulling his head down to be tied at the top of his thighs. Steve groaned at the unforgiving angle, and his arms came out to try and balance himself. Bucky simply finished the ties around his torso and then pulled Steve’s arms straight back and pressed them together. He finished by weaving the rope back and forth up both arms until Steve was forced to keep them horizontal.

At least this time, Steve was in control of how far back his arms could go.

“That’s pretty.” Bucky commented, forcing himself to take a moment.

“Mmhmm.” Steve hummed through clenched teeth. Bucky raised an eyebrow wondering if this was a form of talk back.

“Good point,” Bucky replied slowly, “let’s try something else.” He untied some of the ropes quickly, pulling through the knots and smirking at the hisses Steve made when the rope slid against his sensitive skin a little too fast.

“Whoops.” Bucky said flatly, and Steve stared hard at him, not rising to the bait.

Bucky left the rope around Steve’s thighs and calves and changed the strappado into a chest harness with his arms caught behind his back.

“ _God_...” Steve whispered, and Bucky took a moment to check he wasn’t pinching a nerve.  

Bucky had to remind himself that he was in complete control and he wasn’t actually damaging Steve. They’d done things more stressful than this before.

Bucky warned, “Brace yourself,” before helping Steve bend over backwards. Steve huffed out a breath at the angle, and groaned when Bucky let go. Steve struggled for a moment and found that he couldn’t get back up again because Bucky had looped the back of the chest harness to the rope tied around his ankles. It forced him into an arched back bend, and his thighs were already quivering with the strain.

“There you go.” Bucky grabbed another length of rope and palmed Steve’s cock. “This wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t already hard, so thank you.” Bucky commented as he stroked a few times to get Steve to fill out completely. Steve’s sharp intake of breath just made Bucky grin.

“What— what do you mean?” Steve gritted out between gasps. His shoulders were shifting as he tried in vain to find a comfortable position.

Bucky didn’t answer, simply tied a small loop of rope just under Steve’s cockhead and tightened it. Steve whined at the restriction as Bucky pulled the rest of the rope up over Steve’s belly to tie the end to the middle of the chest harness. This resulted in the rope pulling Steve’s cock flush against his stomach.

“Fuck.” Steve wheezed as he realized his predicament. If he tried to alleviate the backbend, he pulled at his shoulders, which were squeezed together in a fixed position. If he tried to relax his shoulders into the back bend, the rope pulled on his cock instead.

“Ta da.” Bucky murmured and watched Steve struggle and suck in painful breaths. He looked amazing, all trussed up and trembling from the compressed position of his body.

Steve let out a high whine when he accidentally pulled on his cock too hard.

Steve was not sinking into his usual headspace, and Bucky wasn’t surprised.

He _was_ surprised that Steve wasn’t taking the chance to snark back at him; that was something that Bucky would have expected from him if he wasn’t relaxed.

But then again, the fact that this was a gift from Steve to Bucky probably had something to do with it.

“Are you ready?” Bucky asked rhetorically. Steve let out a shuddering breath and whimpered when he pulled his cock again. Glancing down, Bucky could see how the rope was rubbing the sensitive soft skin of the shaft, and how red it made everything look.

Bucky finally put him out of his misery and released the rope, letting Steve’s cock bob up. Steve shouted and tried to draw up his limbs, whimpering when he still couldn’t escape.

“Hold on, I’m coming.” Bucky _tutted_ , and set about undoing the knots and unraveling the ties. He grabbed Steve by the shoulders and hauled him upwards when the rope was free, and Steve’s chest heaved in its bindings.

“Take a moment.” Bucky told him, not letting go. Steve nodded and curled towards Bucky, breathing as deeply as he could while still constricted.

Bucky worked on Steve’s arms in the meantime, letting the rope fall around them both as it loosened. Steve’s breathing grew deeper with each relaxed tie, and soon all Bucky had left was Steve’s legs which didn’t take long to disassemble. It took longer to coax Steve out of his kneeling position and to stretch out his legs.

Steve didn’t say a word, only hissed when he felt the ache as Bucky pulled and tugged at his limbs.

Bucky didn’t let him stretch for too long, already setting up the next position as he made a single-column tie around one of Steve’s wrists. Mirroring the end of the rope with the other wrist, Bucky leaned over to thread the rest of the rope around the legs of the couch, tying off one side and then the other.

“Lay back.” Bucky ordered, and Steve went, unsure about the ease of the position. Luckily, the rope was long enough to pull Steve’s arms out wide, nearly horizontal to the couch’s edge. It only took a couple more knots before Steve was secure, and couldn’t pull his arms in any further.

“Good.” Bucky took a minute to sort out the other length of rope that got tangled earlier. Steve passed the time by pulling his knees up a bit and shifting the weight in his legs from one side to another. The innocent movement was endearing, and Bucky caught himself smiling a little. When the rope was finally ready, Bucky began his work, starting with Steve’s left leg. He did a variant on a gunslinger, tying around Steve’s ankle and just below the knee before joining them together in the middle; he reinforced the middle by wrapping the rope and then tied it off, making sure there was still a good length of rope left over.

He then did the same to the other leg. Grabbing both lengths of excess rope, he told Steve, “Work with me.” He pulled on the rope with one hand, letting his other hand help to support Steve as he helped him bend. He kept pulling and Steve hissed as he settled into a stretched position that he was _almost_ not flexible enough to hold.

He was, so Bucky pushed him until Steve was basically on his back with his legs bent back towards his body. It didn’t take long to tie the rope to the same legs of the couch on the same side of each arm, so he looked like he was touching his toes in a V formation, _upside down_.

Steve was so curled up that his cock was hanging down onto his chest, and Bucky had a brief mental image of Steve trying to give himself head. Bucky wondered if he could work up to that one day, and made a mental note to talk to Steve about it later.

For now, Bucky enjoyed the way the position put Steve’s ass completely on display. His balls were defenseless, and Bucky trailed his fingers over the silky skin, making Steve twitch and moan. Steve’s back muscles were flexed and straining as he tried to alleviate the position to no avail.

“Comfortable?” Bucky asked nonchalantly, and Steve snorted.

Bucky’s lips twitched up, happy to see Steve’s usual personality slipping through.

“Hold on.” Bucky heaved himself to his feet and walked to the kitchen drawer where he knew there was a bottle of lube.

They really did fuck on every surface on enough occasions to warrant it.

Bucky came back and pulled off his shirt and pants, throwing them onto the ottoman behind him. Steve was just tall enough that Bucky couldn’t quite kneel, so he spread out his legs on either side of Steve’s ass and bent down until he was at the right height. He slicked himself up perfunctorily before pushing into that perfect ass.

It was an awkward angle at first, Steve bent over yet still so tall, but Bucky took a moment to figure out the logistics— there was that sniper mind coming in useful, at last. It didn’t take long before he was pushing deeper, groaning as each thrust became easier.

Under him, Steve whimpered, moving in tandem with Bucky, muscles trembling.

“You’re perfect, Steve.” Bucky told him, settling his hands on either side of Steve’s upturned thighs and bracing himself. Steve watched with hooded eyes. “Absolutely perfect.”

Bucky adjusted himself, bending over Steve to push him down more and letting his hands slide down to grip his calves. Steve let out a harsh grunt at the added weight but didn’t look away.

He _never_ looked away.

“Thank you.” Bucky choked out, snapping his hips harder to ignore the tight feeling in his throat. “Not only for giving this to me, but for letting me do everything to you.”

Steve didn’t argue, didn’t say anything. He just let Bucky take him however he wanted to.

_Needed_ to.

Bucky came hard, folding over Steve to blindly grab at his hands. His fingers bumped against the legs of the couch first and then he found Steve and held on tightly. Bucky tried to keep most of his weight off Steve, but it was hard when all he wanted was to lean on Steve for support. He let himself stay inside Steve for a little while longer as he tried to get himself under control, but he was suddenly finding it tough not to cry.

Biting his lips didn’t abate the feeling, so he forced himself to move, pulling out of Steve carefully and quickly setting out to undo the bindings.

Soon he found he couldn’t actually see the knots once tears started to blur his vision.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Bucky whispered, frantically pulling at the rope and cursing when his fingers fumbled uselessly.

“Hey,” Steve murmured, and somehow he was able to push Bucky back a bit.

Bucky blinked hard, swiping at his face and trying to understand how that was possible.

Steve was half-untied, and easily freeing himself— his legs were already down and trailing loose rope, and Bucky didn’t remember undoing those knots.

“ _Hey_.” Steve said again, catching Bucky’s attention. Bucky turned his face towards him and saw Steve was sitting up now, and looking right at Bucky. The next second, Bucky found himself being held, tucked tightly against Steve’s chest.

The dam broke, and Bucky started sobbing, unable to hide it any longer.

“It’s okay, you’re fine. We’re _both_ fine. You’re okay, _shhh,_ I’m here.” Steve murmured over and over to Bucky, but Bucky could barely catch the words.

He was shuddering— harder than Steve in his impossible positions— and he had no idea how to make it stop.

“I— I don’t—” Bucky couldn’t get out the words he needed past his own ragged gasps.

Steve just shushed him again and held him tighter.

Bucky’s hand ached from how hard he was clenching his fingers into a fist, and he knew that if he could feel his left, he would feel the metal fingers grinding together. At least he gave up trying to speak, instead shoving his face into Steve’s chest, hoping to stem the tears.

It didn’t work for a long time.

Eventually Bucky’s adrenaline ran out, leaving him hollow and empty. His crying petered out into miserable sniffles, and Bucky felt exhaustion weighing down his very bones. The only thing keeping him up was Steve.

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was hardly audible, and cracked on the vowel.

“Hey there.” Steve answered back immediately. He pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head, and Bucky had a fleeting thought that he should have washed his hair.

“I’m…” Bucky started, but Steve squeezed tight enough to chase his breath away.

“Don’t you dare say ‘sorry.’” Steve said, “You did amazing.”

Bucky’s mind glitched for a moment, trying to comprehend the full meaning of Steve’s words.

“I don’t…understand.”

Steve relaxed his grip in order to shift their positions. Bucky hadn’t even noticed that Steve had pressed their bodies together up against the couch. Now, Bucky was still sitting more or less in Steve’s lap, but Steve had moved him so that he could lie his head back against the couch and see at Steve easily.

Steve looked… _fine_.

“You did exactly what I asked you to do.” Steve told him simply.

Bucky squinted. “I fucked it up.”

Steve actually had the audacity to grin. “Nah, you didn’t.” He reassured him. “You were pissed and anxious, and you still managed to be there 100%. For me. You very much did _not_ fuck it up.”

Bucky snorted— a tired sound— as he argued, “I couldn’t undo all the rope, Steve. I had you in a dangerous position, and I couldn’t—” He stopped to catch his breath, the full realization of what could have happened crashing down on him again. He felt his eyes start to well up again, and he had no idea how he could still cry, but apparently his body wasn’t quite done.

Steve tapped his forehead, startling him.

“Nope. Not what happened.”

He was so calm. _How was he so calm?_

Bucky felt shaky. “What do you mean?”

Steve laid his head back on the couch, making the movement look lazy and carefree. “You undid the rope when it was necessary.” He squeezed Bucky’s hands. Bucky hadn’t even noticed Steve was holding them. “I just finished the rest. Just because you’re in charge, doesn’t mean it can’t be a group effort sometimes, you know.”

A sharp bark of laughter burst out of Bucky, contrasting with the tears that spilled down his cheeks.

Bucky leaned in again, seeking Steve’s touch. Steve let him, catching him in a kiss when Bucky hesitated.

“I’m okay, Buck. I promise. And so are you.” Steve kissed him again.

Bucky was at least considering the possibility. That had to count for something.

Steve ended up making macaroni and cheese for the both of them, straight from the box. It was one of Bucky’s comfort foods he had discovered in this century— fake powdered cheese and all. They curled up on the couch, both of them in soft pajama shirts and sweatpants, and found a mindless show to watch on Netflix.

Bucky was halfway through his bowl when he suddenly set his spoon down. “You didn’t get to come tonight.”

Steve shoved his spoonful of pasta right into Bucky mouth, forcing him to chew or risk getting noodles all over the place.

“Hush, and watch the movie please.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but turned back to the screen, dropping his head to rest against Steve’s shoulder.

He finally felt calm.

*

Stay still.

_Stay still_

They fucking ordered him to _stay still_.

_Ж_ _еланиe_

Wait.

Don’t move.

Don’t even fidget.

Can’t move a muscle.

Stay still.

_Ржавый_

Fuck that.

Bucky was _pissed_.

They kept speaking— kept saying the _goddamned words_ — and Bucky wanted to punch something.

Someone.

_Семнадцать_.

Bucky refused. He was _done_ playing these games. He looked into the cold eyes of his countless handlers.

They could never see him.

They would never see _him._

  _Рассвет_

They saw a soldier. A weapon. An _object._ Something to be used.

Fuck that.

Fuck _them,_ and the horse they rode in on.

Bucky was _Bucky_. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of taking that away. Not this time.

_Печь_

He didn’t want to follow orders.

He didn’t _have_ to follow orders.

They told him not to move, and he’d stupidly believed in them. In their word— their _words_. But he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to, and he decidedly _did not fucking want to_.

_Девять_

They’re angry, he knew. He didn’t care.

He was angrier.

They screamed the words at him, their last Hail Mary to an imploding star. They knew it was the end, knew they couldn’t hold him anymore. Nothing could contain him anymore.

They were scared.

_Доброкачественные_.

Fuck that.

Bucky just stared at them. Their blank faces.

He heard the words.

He could never _not_ hear them.

Their meanings deeply rooted in his mind forever.

But that was all they were.

Words. Roots.

He could cut them. Dig them up and throw them aside.

He could grow new ones.

He could look at their gnarled branches and see how they twisted him into what they wanted.

He could know them.

And he could rule them.

He could _move them._

_Возвращение домой._

His handlers were shocked. Scared. Angry. Confused.

Bucky was not.

Bucky was _Bucky_.

No one could change that. Not now, and not ever again.

He could move away.

He could _move._

He refused.

_Один_.

He refused.

He refused.

He _refused_.

Steve would be proud.

“Грузовой вагон.” Bucky found himself whispering, immediately awake. He was calm, yet his mind was ready to go, and Bucky didn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well. He felt rested and energetic all at the same time.

He felt the pillow give way as he turned his head.

Steve was sitting upright, leaning against the headboard and drinking coffee while reading his tablet. He had ear buds in, and Bucky could faintly hear the sounds of a guitar leaking out. He figured it was probably Simon and Garfunkel, given how Steve had been obsessed with them for the past week.

Bucky watched him.

Steve would periodically take sips of coffee as he scrolled through whatever he was reading on the tablet, and occasionally he’d nod his head to the beat of the song. He looked comfortable and cozy, wearing a long-sleeved shirt with the bedcovers pulled up around his waist.

Bucky himself was tucked firmly under those same covers to avoid the chill of early autumn, and he felt safe and secure in his little corner of the world.

And it _was_ his corner, now.

They’d turned Bucky’s old room into an official play room— they’d bought so many incriminating things that Steve refused to have anyone over until they had a place to store their equipment away from curious eyes. They still had some other areas they used around the apartment, but having a single place to play made things easier.

He was sure that Natasha had figured out what the hooks in the ceiling were for, given the wink she gave him the last time she visited. Bucky didn’t care, because he knew she’d never divulge that information to anyone else.

And anyway, it seemed like they were in it for the long haul, so it made sense to keep everything in one room. That, and they weren’t too confident they could come up with any other plausible explanation for the sawhorse.

Even Natasha didn’t need to know about _that_ one.

So Bucky had moved into Steve’s room— _their_ room, Bucky amended to himself.

It had taken a long discussion about boundaries and feeling safe, and Bucky had focused on the fact that he always felt safe with Steve. He didn’t really need a space to retreat to away from Steve, because Steve was the person he sought out for comfort.

And he’d been sleeping in Steve’s bed more often than not anyway.

So now he was sleeping in _their_ bed, and in _their_ room.

Bucky rather liked the arrangement.

He stretched his foot out until it poked Steve in the shin, nudging him for good measure.

Steve looked down and the moment he saw Bucky was awake, broke into a huge smile.

Pulling out his ear buds, he asked, “Well, good morning. How did you sleep?”

Bucky grinned lazily up at him. “Phenomenally, actually. You?”

“Great.” Steve replied. “Super great. And today is going to be great too, you know.” He gave Bucky a wink, and Bucky blinked back at him, confused for a moment.

“Yeah?”

Steve nodded, serious all of a sudden. “I _know_ it will be. You’re going to do awesome.”

It slowly dawned on Bucky that Steve was talking about his evaluation. He’d forgotten it was today.

Or, he hadn’t truly forgotten. He just re-remembered.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I think you’re right. I _am_ going to be awesome.”

Surprise flitted across Steve’s face for a moment before his expression settled on pride. “You’ve worked so hard, Buck.”

Bucky nodded against the pillow, feeling the soft fabric catch against his morning scruff.

“Yeah,” He began, letting uncertainty bleed through, “I have this one worry, though.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Steve looked concerned, and Bucky knew he would drop everything to help Bucky in that moment. He only had to say the word.

“Well, I’m really worried about accidentally spilling your coffee on the tablet. My quest is to ravish you this morning, and I’m not going to be concerned with innocent bystanders.” Steve looked down at his hands as if he’d forgotten he was still holding the drink, then yelped and tried to twist to avoid disaster, setting his mug and the tablet down on the bedside table when Bucky pushed himself onto his knees.

“I have _plans_ this morning, Steve.” Bucky grabbed hold of Steve’s shoulders the second the coffee was secure, and dragged him backwards so he could position himself over Steve.

Steve looked up at Bucky with wide eyes, his chest hitching a little. “Yeah? What kind of plans?”

Bucky dropped down to kiss him once. Twice. Three times. When he pulled back, Steve’s pupils were blown and Bucky could feel his cock pressing heavy against his own.

“ _All sorts_.”

Fulfilling that promise to Steve was the perfect way to start the day, in Bucky’s opinion.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Cristinuke** : Thank you for reading and let me know if you liked it! :D
> 
> **Daphneblithe** : Ah hasn't Cristinuke written the most AMAZING thing? I am just swooning! I am so happy you chose the art honey, and you've made something so beautiful! Thank you also to wonderful RBB mods for the organizing!
> 
> (I am [on twitter](https://twitter.com/daphneblithe) and I humbly have other work including a 21-pieces-of-art-some-NSFW, eerie Stucky romance, [Love Among the Ruins](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16929495/chapters/39777129)


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